* 


if. 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


\6^d6n/e^/y.    9h^   Qz^ac^   ^.  i^ell^ 


Shelf. 


BV  4253  .M48  1889 

Mercer,  Alexander  Gardiner, 

1817-1882. 
Christ  and  His  teachings 


C|)rist  anti  ^i&  Ceac|)insfi. 


BEING   THE   SECOND   VOLUME   OF   SELECTIONS   FROM   THE 


SERMONS 


OF  THE   LATE 


ALEXANDER  GARDINER  MERCER  D.D. 


NEW     YORK: 

ANSON    D.  F.  RANDOLPH   AND   CO. 

38  West  Twenty-Third  Street. 

1889. 


Copyright,  1SS9, 
By  Anson  D.  F.  Randolph  and  Co. 


fflLnibfrsitji  press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  I  Know  that  my  Redeemer  Liveth     ...  3 

II.  Christmas 14 

III.  Temptation  of  Christ. 25 

IV.  The  Transfiguration 40 

V.  The  Lord's  Supper 52 

VI.  The  Crucifixion    . 61 

VII.  Easter 71 

VIII.  The  Ascension  . 80 

IX.  Whitsunday 91 

X.  The  Exaltation  of  Christ 100 

XI.  The  Feast  of  Epiphany 106 

XII.  The  Character  of  Christ 117 

XIII.  Who  is  the  Son  of  Man? 124 

XIV.  The  Scribes  and  Pharisees 135 

XV.  The  Judgment 144 

XVI.  The  Exaltation  of  the  Heart 155 

XVII.  The  Godlikeness  of  Man     .     , 168 

XVIII.  The  Deception  of  Sin           181 

XIX.  The  Obedient  Son 193 

XX.  Christ  and  the  Gadarenes 204 

XXI.  Man's  Praise  more  than  God's  Praise    .    .  214 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.  The  Good  Samaritan 223 

XXIII.  Wider  Views  OF  Christianity 234 

XXIV.  The  Depths  of  Satan       248 

XXV.  The  Office  of  Judgment       255 

XXVI.  God's  Rebuke  of  Appearances 265 

XXVII.  The  Spirit  of  Christ 275 

XXVIII.  They  Rewarded  Evil  for  Good  .....  284 

XXIX.  The  Power  of  Will 292 

XXX.  The  Wisdom  of  God 

XXXI.  The  River  of  Life 

XXXII.  Worldliness 


CHRIST   AND    HIS    TEACHINGS. 


I. 

I   KNOW   THAT   MY  REDEEMER   LIVETH. 

For  I  know  that  7ny  Redee7ner  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at 
the  latter  day  zipott  the  earth  :  and  though  after  my  skin 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God  : 
whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  arid  mine  eyes  shall  behold,  and 
not  aftotherj  though  my  reins  be  consumed  within  7ne.  —  Job 
xix.  25-27. 


T 


HE  Book  of  Job  has  been  thought  the  oldest 
book  in  the  world.  Some  scholars  assign  it  to 
the  time  of  Solomon ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  believe  it 
to  have  been  a  very  ancient  tale,  coming  from  the  land 
and  time  of  Abram  or  his  ancestors,  or  from  countries 
lying  in  the  same  direction  and  from  a  people  of  the 
same  race,  holding  the  same  pure  elements  of  religion. 
I  take  it  to  be  a  poem  or  drama  founded  on  a  deep 
personal  experience. 

Job  was  an  Arab  chief,  or  emir,  and  like  Abram 
seems  not  so  much  to  have  reached  just  and  impres- 
sive ideas  of  God  as  to  have  inherited  them.  Abram 
and  his  children,  the  Hebrews,  cleared,  added  to,  and 
held  firmly  these  ideas ;  but  the  ideas  themselves  date 
long  before  them,  and  to  a  distant  region  of  the 
world. 


4       /  KNOW  THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH. 

Most  singular  to  say,  these  races,  holding  such  con- 
victions as  to  God,  seem  yet  to  have  taken  no  firm  grasp 
on  a  future  life.  From  this  fact  —  namely,  that  they 
had  some  clear  notions  of  God  and  his  moral  govern- 
ment, and  yet  were  in  darkness  respecting  a  world 
beyond  the  grave  —  arose  the  greatest  perplexity  and 
even  agony  of  their  lives.  God  must  be  just;  and  yet 
look  here  at  the  strange  injustice,  and  no  other  life  to 
bring  a  remedy !  But  such  was  their  confidence  in 
God  that  they  generally  forced  even  this  world  into 
an  appearance  of  justice.  When,  however,  these  con- 
flicts rose  so  high  as  in  this  cruel  personal  experience 
of  Job,  who,  conscious  of  uprightness,  saw  that  he 
and  all  his  were  about  to  perish  forever,  what  should 
he  say? 

According  to  his  belief,  when  the  righteous  man 
was  prosperous,  then  only  was  God  acting  justly  and 
in  character ;  or  if  a  degree  of  severity  was  allowed  to 
be  intelligible  and  justifiable,  it  must  be  brief,  and  for 
some  good  end  now  and  here.  Yet  in  the  face  of  this 
creed  here  was  Job,  a  man  without  crime,  bearing  his 
faculties  and  fortunes  meekly,  yet  everything  going 
bitterly  against  him,  and  with  every  sign  that  it  was 
about  to  end  so. 

What  a  horrible  perplexity  this  man  was  in !  His 
troubles  mounted  up  to  heaven ;  but  the  agony  of  his 
heart  was  greater  than  all.  He  must  admit  either  that 
God  was  no  true  God,  or  that  his  consciousness  as  to 
his  own  rectitude  was   a   delusion.     In  this   condition 


/  A' AVIV  THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH.         5 

Job  seems  to  mc  one  of  the  most  interesting  sights 
ever  witnessed.  His  bottomless  grief  touched  even  on 
despair  and  death ;  yet  how  affectionately  he  clung  to 
God,  at  the  same  time  never  foregoing  his  deep  con- 
viction as  to  his  own  rectitude ;  on  the  one  hand  saying, 
**  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him,"  and  on 
the  other  standing  firm  in  his  consciousness  of  right, 
and  refusing  to  affect  being  a  sinner,  —  refusing  to  lie 
unto  God. 

This  was  manly,  and  God  approved  it,  at  the 
same  time  teaching  him  that  he  carried  it  too  far, — 
that  he  had  ''uttered  that  he  understood  not;"  and 
thus  he  learned  to  '*  abhor  himself  and  repent  in 
dust  and  ashes."  Yet  God  approved  his  sincerity. 
But  there  was  another  thing  in  him,  —  his  faith  in 
God. 

Religious  faith,  in  its  most  general  sense,  means  the 
tenacious  grasp  of  the  heart  on  the  right  and  good 
thing,  especially  upon  its  God,  and  committing  one's 
self  to  God,  whatever  is  against  us,  and  at  all  hazards. 
It  is,  as  Pascal  says,  "  God  sensible  to  the  heart."  It 
is  "  enduring,  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible." 

This  feeling  was  almost  unparalleled  in  Job,  and  I 
take  the  words  of  the  text  to  be  the  grandest  expression 
of  faith  ever  uttered  by  mortal  lips.  "  For  I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at  the  lat- 
ter day  upon  the  earth  :  and  though  after  my  skin  worms 
destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God : 
whom    I    shall   see    for   myself,    and    mine  eyes    shall 


6      /  KNOW  THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH. 

behold,  and  not  another;  though  my  reins  be  consumed 
within  me." 

Some  Christian  people  make  mistakes  about  these 
words,  which  so  beautifully  describe  Christ  and  the 
resurrection  that  they  think  Christ  and  the  resurrection 
were  consciously  and  definitely  before  the  mind  of  Job. 
In  substance  they  were  implied,  but  in  fact  he  meant 
consciously  this :  ''  My  redeeming  God  will  save  me, 
and  will  do  it  even  upon  this  earth,  will  do'  it  even  in 
this  crumbling  body,  dying  and  virtually  dead,  —  that 
is,  will  be  just  and  merciful,  even  although  it  seems  a 
stark  impossibility." 

Remember  what  it  was  to  say  this.  He  believed  in 
his  innocence,  he  believed  God  must  favor  the  inno- 
cent in  this  life;  yet  he  stood  bereft  of  all  outward 
good,  his  heart  breaking,  his  wife  turning  from  him, 
herself  hopeless  and  scorning,  —  ''  Curse  God,  and  die," 
—  his  friends  upbraiding  him,  his  loathsome  body,  eaten 
up  with  incurable  disease  (the  leprosy),  sinking  into 
the  grave,  —  he  stood,  I  say,  at  such  a  moment,  and, 
in  a  sort  of  defiance  of  all  the  facts  of  Nature,  declared 
that  an  hour  of  redemption  was  coming  to  him,  — yes, 
even  to  his  body.  "  I  know:  "  '■'  I  am  sure  that  God 
is,  that  he  is  true,  that  even  now  behind  the  curtain  he 
is  there,  that  he  feels,  and  is  a  Redeemer;  and  though 
utter  destruction  seems  not  only  probable  but  actual, 
*  though  worms  destroy  this  body,'  and  though  there 
be  no  proof  or  precedent  or  promise  that  all  this  shall 
or  can  be  reversed  "   (he  stood  so  early  in  the  world 


/  KNOW  THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH.         7 

that  he  knew  nothing  to  sustain  him),  '*  yet  I  know  it 
will  be  reversed,  and,  '  though  my  reins  be  consumed 
within  me,'  I  know  that  I  shall  at  last  see  the  Redeemer, 
—  with  these  my  eyes  see  him.  Yes,  and  I  shall  be 
clothed  again  with  my  flesh,  though  that  flesh  be  now 
crumbling  before  the  worm." 

He  had  in  reality  such  a  confidence  in  the  perfection 
of  God  his  Redeemer,  that  he  knew  he  would  bring  a 
redemption  corresponding  to  the  worst  exigency,  what- 
ever it  might  be ;  and  so  I  say  that  this  really  preached 
a  principle  which  contained  all  possible  deliverances, 
and  of  course  that  of  Christ  and  the  resurrection.  The 
principle  is  that  whatever  is  demanded  of  the  justice 
and  becoming  to  the  mercy  of  God  shall  take  place  in 
body  as  well  as  soul.  If  you  had  asked  Job,  *'  Do  you 
expect  that  God  will  come  forth  as  a  man,  or  in  some 
grander  material  form,  and  stand  upon  the  earth,  his 
brightness  darkening  the  sun?"  —  if  you  had  asked 
him,  "  Do  you  expect  that  your  body  will  actually  die 
and  go  to  dust,  and  that  then  a  resurrection  of  justice 
shall  take  place?  "  —  he  would,  I  think,  have  answered : 
"I  know  not  how,  or  when,  or  in  what  way;  I  only 
know  that  God  lives,  and  is  not  dead,  and  that  he  is  the 
Redeemer  of  his  children ;  I  only  know  that,  standing 
back  now,  he  will  stand  forward,  that  impossible  things 
will  be  possible,  and  that,  though  all  Nature  were  con- 
densed into  one  barrier  of  iron  to  stop  him,  he  will  go 
through  it  to  save  me,  —  nay,  that  in  this  very  scene  of 
sorrow,  and  in  this  very  body  of  death,  he  will  make 


8        /  KNOW   THAT  MV  REDEEMER  LIVETH. 

life  and  joy  to  live,  that  eye  to  eye  I  shall  behold  him, 
even  I,  a  dying  worm."  Thus  he  soared  he  knew  not 
whither,  like  the  hooded  falcon,  all  darkened,  but  still 
ascending  towards  the  sun. 

I  call  that  the  sublimest  thing  a  human  being  ever 
did.  Now,  how  unspeakably  has  God  vindicated  this 
confidence  !  The  Book  of  Job  closes  with  the  spectacle 
of  one  redemption,  a  personal  redemption,  one  vindica- 
tion. But  the  real  and  great,  the  universal  redemption, 
of  which  this  personal  redemption  of  Job  was  but  the 
shadow  and  symbol,  has  also  in  due  time  dawned ;  and 
how  sublime  that  vindication !  Job's  confidence  in 
God's  triumphant  mercy  to  soul  and  body  hinted  in 
substance  of  Christ  and  the  resurrection ;  but  the  great 
truth  was,  in  fact,  as  a  scroll  rolled  up.  It  was  reserved 
for  us  to  see  it  unrolled.  In  these  latter  days  the 
Redeemer  has  stood  upon  the  earth,  —  a  Redeemer 
indeed !  The  salvation  of  body  and  soul,  which  was 
but  a  poor,  brief  thing  in  Job's  best  apprehension  of  it, 
we  see  to  be  the  eternal  regeneration  of  one  and  the 
eternal  resurrection  of  the  other;  and  we  now  know, 
in  a  sense  unspeakably  exalted,  that,  though  worms 
destroy  this  body,  and  though  our  reins  be  consumed 
within  us,  yet  in  our  flesh  shall  we  see  God. 

This  view  of  the  words  of  Job  leads  me  to  believe 
that  not  only  in  this  case,  but  in  all  cases,  now  as  well 
as  then,  every  moral  prediction  of  the  heart,  however 
impossible  the  event  seems,  will  also  surely  be  realized. 
But  observe,  I  say  nioraL     There  are  many  desires,  the 


/  KNOW  THAT  AIV  REDEEMER  LIVETH.        9 

Strongest  in  the  human   breast,  innocent  wishes, for 

example,  family  wishes  for  a  domestic  heaven,  —  which 
may  be  realized,  but  of  that  we  have  no  assurance. 
But  the  deep  demands  of  the  moral  heart  are,  I  believe, 
certain  to  be  fulfilled.  To  be  sure,  as  to  time  and 
manner,  our  presumptuous  ideas  will  be  disappointed. 
Many  people,  for  example,  if  they  have  a  just  quarrel, 
personal,  national,  or  of  a  church,  look  that  all  matters 
shall  be  shortly  set  right,  forgetting  that  the  just  Judge 
has  his  own  way  and  his  own  great  times.  Why,  gen- 
erations and  hundreds  of  generations  have  not  yet  lifted 
from  the  earth  some  of  the  sorest  evils  it  groans  under: 
"  How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost  thou  not  judge 
and  avenge  our  blood  on  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth?  " 
But  do  not  on  this  account,  as  some  weak  people  do, 
finding  that  the  Lord  delayeth  his  coming,  begin  to 
doubt  whether  there  is  any  right,  and  in  effect  blas- 
pheme God  and  turn  away  from  him. 

"  Careless  seems  the  great  Avenger ;  .  .  . 
Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold,  Wrong  forever  on  the  throne,  — 
Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  future,  and,  behind  the  dim  unknown, 
Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above  his  own." 

Why  judge  his  slowness  or  his  inscrutable  methods? 
Of  one  thing  can  we  be  sure,  — that  the  deep  and 
sacred  demands  of  our  hearts,  our  consciences,  are 
the  same  as  God's  wishes,  and  that  his  wishes  must 
one  day  stand  forth  as  facts. 

This  is  faith;  and  to  know  it  is  living  faith; 
and  of  what  value,  of  what  power,  is  it !     To  dare  to 


10     /  KNOW   THAT  MV  REDEEMER  LIVETH. 

believe  that  which  is  thought  impossible,  to  push  aside 
the  wisdom  of  the  prudent,  and  to  become  in  effect 
a  fool,  to  trust  and  act  with  utter  disregard  of  all 
evidence  but  the  evidence  of  an  enlightened  heart, — 
that  is  the  divine  spark  in  man,  and  has  wrought  all 
the  spiritual  wonders  in  history.  See  here  in  this  case 
this  outburst  of  Job's  confidence  in  his  Redeemer,  — 
perhaps  the  most  magnificent  words  spoken  in  history, 
and  of  sublime  effect. 

I  now  ask,  What  is  our  creed?  Have  we  a  living 
God,  a  Redeemer?  Can  we  say,  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth"?  The  contrast  seems  shameful;  but 
I  must  not  overstate  it.  If  Job  had  stood  firm  in  the 
exaltation  of  that  moment,  then  indeed  the  contrast 
would  be  overwhelming,  and  we  might  despair.  But 
that  was  far  from  the  case,  and  this  fact  might  as  well 
be  confessed;  I  think  the  infirmities  of  good  men  one 
of  our  greatest  aids,  for  they  save  us  from  despair. 

One  or  two  great  things  the  heart  of  Job  never  let 
go,  —  his  consciousness  of  his  own  sincerity  and  his 
affectionate  cry  after  God ;  but  everything  else  wavered. 
The  same  man  who  uttered  the  sentence  of  the  text, 
almost  in  the  same  breath,  in  this  very  chapter,  says: 
**  God  hath  overthrown  me,  and  hath  compassed  me 
with  his  net.  Behold,  I  cry  out  of  wrong,  but  I  am 
not  heard :  I  cry  aloud,  but  there  is  no  judgment." 
And  so  in  a  hundred  other  places.  It  is  not  just,  then, 
to  rate  ourselves  by  the  highest  feeling  of  Job;  but 
have  we  that  which  he  never  lost?     And  have  we  ever  a 


/  KNOW   THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH.      II 

moment  when  with  our  whole  hearts  and  with  uplifted 
hands  we  can  claim  that  we  have  a  Redeemer  and  that 
we  know  it,  —  when  we  can  look  upon  the  grave 
and  yet  know  that  none  are  dead,  —  a  moment  when 
we  are  sure  that  God  shall  root  out  not  only  all 
oppression  from  the  earth,  but  all  wrong  and  sin  from 
our  own  hearts,  —  that  his  hand  shall  find  out  the 
weeds  of  the  world,  as  the  hand  of  the  husbandman 
finds  the  weeds  of  the  field?  Do  we  ever  know  this? 
Oh  the  vast  difference  between  those  men  who  can 
only  say,  '*  I  have  heard  a  rumor  from  the  Lord," 
and  those  who  have  "seen  him  with  the  seeine  of 
the  eye  "  ! 

The  coming  of  Christ  is  a  reality.  Whether  he  will 
stand  as  a  visible  figure  upon  the  earth,  or  whether 
his  coming  will  be,  as  many  of  his  past  comings  have 
been,  in  spirit  and  in  power,  I  do  not  know.  But 
come  he  must,  and  in  such  eminence  that  ''  every 
eye  shall  see  him."  This  will  be  to  the  whole  world. 
To  each  man,  of  course,  the  same  thing  essentially 
will  take  place  in  a  {^w  days  or  months:  I  mean  at 
his  death,  when  he  passes  forth  into  the  presence  of 
his  Judge.  Whether  in  that  Judge  he  will  find  also 
a  Redeemer  will  depend  on  the  fact  whether  the  heart 
realizes  and  trusts  in  him. 

Is  this  our  Redeemer  a  reality  to  us?  If  our  lives 
are  smooth  and  prosperous,  I  fear  not.  If  we  have 
been  tried  like  Job,  then  possibly  we  believe  like  him. 
Usually  the  invisible  is  like  the  heaven  of  stars  in  the 


12      /  KNOW   THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH. 

daylight;  but  when  God  makes  the  dayHght  of  the 
world  darkness,  then  heaven  comes  forth.  And  usually 
this  will  not  be  done  by  ordinary  griefs,  for  these  make 
the  hold  on  the  world  tighter;  and  I  believe  that 
many  people  never  know  more  than  these,  and  go 
through  life  without  feeling  that  sort  of  trouble  which 
sweeps  everything  from  beneath  the  feet.  When  that 
comes,  when  the  spirit  dies  in  the  breast,  when  we 
feel  that  inexpressible  divorce  between  us  and  all, 
the  agony  of  utter  loneliness  and  hopelessness,  then 
we  are  in  a  manner  forced  upon  a  Redeemer;  we 
pour  out  our  tears  unto  God;  we  stretch  forth  our 
hands  towards  him,  if  so  be  there  may  be  hope. 

Infinitely  precious,  then,  are  our  troubles,  —  in- 
finitely precious  is  death,  —  which  constrain  us  to 
reach  out  for  some  one  to  redeem  from  trouble  and 
sin  and  the  grave.  He  slays  us,  that  we  may  trust  in 
him. 

Unnumbered  generations  in  Christian  lands  have 
been  carried  to  their  rest  under  the  sound  of  these 
sublime  words.  They  meet  the  dead  as  they  are 
brought  into  our  churches;  they  make  the  dead  to 
speak,  saying,  *' I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth;" 
they  make  the  living  who  survive,  respond  to  the 
utterance  of  the  solemn  and  touching  consolation, 
saying,  ''  Yes,  we  know  that  our  Redeemer  liveth." 
So  over  each  of  us,  even  of  us,  and  of  the  children, 
over  us  and  as  if  from  us  and  for  us,  the  same  voice 
will  be  heard. 


/  /vAVlV   THAT  MY  REDEEMER  LIVETH.      1 3 

Will  it  announce  the  truth?  In  our  flesh  shall  we 
see  God?  Yes,  if  we  have  indeed  lived  in  this  faith. 
How  then  will  the  way  to  the  tomb  be  illuminated! 
What  an  indescribable  halo  of  comfort  and  peace  will 
rest  upon  the  senseless   clay! 


II. 

CHRISTMAS. 

Lei  us   now  go  even  ttnio  Beihlehem^  and  see  this  thing  which 
is  co7ne  to  pass.  —  Luke  ii.  15. 

O  O  said  the  shepherds  one  to  another.  The  great 
*^  sight  of  the  universe  was  at  Bethlehem  on  that 
day;  and  thence  afterward  forever,  when  men,  or 
creatures  above  men,  would  seek  the  most  wonderful, 
they  make  their  pilgrimage  back  to  that  point.  So, 
once  more,  let  2ls  go  now  even  unto  Bethlehem,  and 
see  this  thing  which  is  come  to  pass. 

The  sight  was  a  new-born  babe.  Look  simply  at 
that.  Coming  in  and  away  from  all  the  regions  of 
wonder  which  surround  Christ,  omitting  all  the  won- 
der that  concerned  him  through  the  Jewish  history, 
through  the  whole  story  of  men,  or  all  that  far  higher 
story  of  those  inconceivable  facts  and  preparatory  eras 
which,  "  or  ever  the  earth  was,"  moved  forward  to  this 
issue;  omitting  the  wonder  of  this  Being  as  he  be- 
came known,  standing  in  the  midst  of  us  a  living  man, 
and  all  that  scene  of  grace  and  truth  and  suffering; 
omitting  whatever  has  followed  from  him  (that  Great 
Cause  thrust  into  time  and  the  world),  whatever  has 
come  from  him  up  to  this  moment,  and  all  that  must 


CHRISTMAS.  15 

come  in  the  periods  yet  before  us,  —  omit  whatever 
you  can  omit,  and  the  greatest  of  the  wonders  re- 
mains,—  a  new-born  child  sent  out  from  God.  Let 
us  now  go  to  Bethlehem  and  see  this  one  innocent 
sight. 

For  this  birth  was  *'  the  Word  made  flesh."  Among 
all  the  births  of  God,  the  births  of  suns  or  sun-like 
spirits,  this  birth,  which  had  eternally  promised  itself, 
now  came  forward  in  its  order,  a  thing  that  had 
"  come   to   pass." 

Behold  it !  Stop  and  look  well  at  it !  It  is  the 
great  fact  in  the  history  of  the  universe,  and  the  great 
fact,  if  the  language  be  allowed  me.  in  the  history  of 
God.  One  thing  is  certain:  either  the  birth  of  the 
Divine  in  the  form  of  a  babe  is  an  incredible  folly,  or 
the  most  awful  and  delightful  of  facts;  and  that  man, 
advanced  as  far  as  he  is,  does  for  the  most  part,  and 
in  the  face  of  all  the  difficulties,  believe  that  fact,  is 
either  the  greatest  scandal  or  the  greatest  glory  of  the 
human  race.  But  whether  he  believes  or  disbelieves, 
even  by  these  contradictions  the  w^onder  and  the  in- 
terest of  the  event  are  enlarged. 

Speak  not  of  any  other  history,  —  of  the  w^hole 
crowd  of  events  behind  us.  They  are  as  nothing. 
Speak  not  even  of  the  truly  grand  world  of  truth, 
which  the  light  of  the  human  eye  has  illumined  for 
us  on  every  hand.  The  whole  blaze  of  fact  and  truth 
together  fades  and  looks  like  the  light  of  a  candle 
when  the  morning  sun  has   come  in. 


1 6  CHRISTMAS. 

God  with  us,  —  made  flesh  and  dwelling  among  us ! 
It  strikes  all  as  something  of  unspeakable  strange- 
ness; but  it  is  both  necessary  and  fit  that  it  should 
appear  so.  Necessary,  for  at  every  step  we  descend 
into  the  deeps  of  God;  his  nature  and  ways  must 
rise  up  before  us  with  an  eternal  strangeness  about 
them.  And  is  it  not  fit  as  well  as  necessary?  Is  not 
pure  wonder  a  right  state  of  the  finite  spirit  as  it 
stands  before  the  Infinite?  And  is  it  not  the  source 
whence  come  blended  adoration  for  the  awful  great- 
ness which  passes  out  of  our  conceptions,  and  that 
sublimity  of  trust,  even  in  the  fearful  and  uncertain 
darkness,  which  emotions  lie  at  the  base  of  all  religion 
forever,  the  very  foundation  ties  connecting  together 
God  and  the  creature?  Indeed,  to  excite  wonder, 
unspeakable  wonder,  is  always  the  study  —  I  might 
almost  say  the  artifice  —  of  the  Divine  Spirit  as  it 
moves  working  in  the  world  around  us;  for  it  is  pro- 
viding thus  for  all  the  conscious  universe  the  instiga- 
tion which  lifts  the  forehead  in  eager  aspiring,  and 
bows  it  in  awe,  and  thus  bows  it  and  lifts  it  forever; 
with  an  eternal  wish  forever  lifts  it,  with  an  eternal 
awe  forever  sinks  it,  —  which  makes  the  worship  of 
spirits,  be  they  men   or  high  as   gods. 

The  strangeness  of  this  spectacle,  then,  which  angels 
may  bend  over,  does  not  deter  me.  But  I  must  say 
that  the  man  learned  in  the  history  and  tendencies  of 
human  nature  sees  here  what  looks  at  first  as  one 
instance  (though  it  may  be  he  will  allow  the  purest) 


CHRISTMAS.  17 

of  that  idolatrous  bent  of  the  heart  which  must  have 
whatever  it  thinks  divine  embodied.  He  forgets,  how- 
ever, that  this  powerful  bent,  and  I  may  say  necessity, 
of  human  nature  to  realize  God  only  under  sensible 
forms  made  it  probable  that  a  true  manifestation  of 
God  would  be  accommodated  to  that  very  need. 

The  best  manifestation  of  God  is  no  abstract  thing; 
it  is  that  which  gives  a  pure  display  of  God's  nature 
in  the  form  which  best  takes  hold  of  man's  nature  as 
it  is, —  that  is,  which  best  combines  purity  with  power. 
And  has  this  not  been  well  done?  Is  there  any  pos- 
sibility within  the  range  of  wise  thought  that  it  could 
have  been  differently  or  better  done  than  when  **  God 
sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman"? 

Conceive  a  man  who  really  feels  and  knows  that 
in  this  human  form  is  the  very  Son  of  the  Highest; 
he  will  feel  all  through  him  such  an  influence  as  the 
idea  of  God  invisible  never  has  given  and  never  could 
give  him ;  and  this  simply  because  of  the  union  of 
spirit  with  sense  impressing  a  being  who  is  himself 
sense  and  spirit,  and  who  cannot,  do  as  he  may,  rise 
entirely  above  himself.  But  when  you  add  to  the 
mere  power  given  by  this  union  of  the  divine  with 
the  material  the  means  it  affords  for  bringing  out 
the  unknown  feelings  of  the  Divine  Heart,  for  show- 
ing God  to  be  what  by  any  other  means  than  God 
embodied  —  God  suffering  —  could  never  have  been 
made  known,  —  I  say  this,  distinctly  conceived,  gives 
not  only  irresistible  power  to  old  truth,  but  pours  out 

2 


1 8  CHRISTMAS. 

a  startling  revelation  of  light  from  the  centre  of  the 
Soul  of  God,  which  will,  like  the  tide  of  an  ocean, 
sway  back  the  spirits  to  their  source  and  home. 

I  stand  then  over  the  cradle  of  Christ  to-day,  with 
joy  not  only  that  here  is  my  Saviour,  but  that  this  is 
he  who  leads  me  back  to  God,  who  teaches  me  best 
what  God  is,  and  even  through  that  body  of  flesh  and 
bones  and  nerves  and  senses,  even  through  that,  leads 
me  into  the  hidden  secrets  of  the  Divine  Heart. 

Did  I  not  speak  truth,  then,  when  I  said  that  from  all 
points  and  places  of  the  future  all  spirits  of  whatever 
height  will  forever  revert  to  this  point  and  place,  and 
the  words  of  the  shepherds  be  the  worlds  of  all  races  in 
all  worlds  and  in  all  heavens,  *'  Let  us  now  go  even  unto 
Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing  which  is  come  to  pass  "  ? 
But  the  sight  is  not  ended  with  the  fact  of  the  incar- 
nation of  the  Divine  Word.  There  was  a  divineness  in 
the  way  in  which  it  was  done.  Study  it  for  a  moment. 
''When  he  bringeth  in  the  first-begotten  into  the  world," 
it  is  a  matter  of  the  most  curious  interest  how  He  will 
do  it. 

Hear,  then,  once  more  the  narrative :  *'  And  so  it 
was,  that  while  they  were  there,  the  days  were  ac- 
complished that  Mary  should  be  delivered.  And  she 
brought  forth  her  first-born  son,  and  wrapped  him  in 
swaddling-clothes,  and  laid  him  in  a  manger;  because 
there  was  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn.  And  there 
were  in  the  same  country  shepherds  abiding  in  the 
field,  keeping  watch  over  their  flock  by  night.     And 


CHRISTMAS.  19 

lo,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round  about  them ;  and  they 
were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel  said  unto  them,  Fear 
not;  for  behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  people.  For  unto  you  is  born  this 
day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the 
Lord.  And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  you ;  Ye  shall 
find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes,  lying  in  a 
manger.  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a 
multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  praising  God,  and  say- 
ing. Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good  will  toward  men." 

Now,  this  seems  to  me  a  grand  epical  and  a  sweet 
pastoral  history;  for  it  is  surrounded  by  sounds  as  of 
shepherds'  bells  mingling  with  the  voices  of  angels  and 
spirits,  and  by  sights  uniting  the  simplicity  and  inno- 
cency  of  the  earth  with  the  regality  of  the  heavens. 

The  first  thing  to  which  I  ask  attention  here  is  the 
style  of  the  supernatural.  Had  it  been  left  to  man  to 
introduce  a  God,  either  the  manifestation  would  have 
been  wild  and  grotesque,  or  the  chief  traits,  even  with 
the  most  refined,  would  have  been  those  of  power  and 
exterior  magnificence,  for  these  are  the  things  most 
divine  to  man.  The  blending  also  of  the  human  with 
the  divine  would  have  been  awkward  and  inharmonious, 
or  this  would  have  been  avoided  only  by  sacrificing 
the  one  to  the  other;  and  no  doubt,  even  if  it  had 
been  the  manifestation  of  an  inferior  deity,  the  human 
part  would   have   been  sacrificed   to  the  divine,  and  a 


20  CHRISTMAS. 

lurid  light  of  prodigy  would  have  shone  over  the  whole, 
—  a  '*  light  that  never  was,  on  sea  or  land."  Instead  of 
all  which  we  find  that  though  this  divine  story  of  Christ 
came  from  the  bosom  of  the  people,  even  from  the  Jews 
of  that  day,  there  is  nothing  grotesque,  nothing  of  mere 
prodigy  here. 

We,  whose  taste  in  the  wonderful  has  been  formed 
and  refined  and  sobered  under  the  Christian  ideal  of  it, 
can  hardly  estimate,  unless  by  taking  our  stand  in  the 
mythologies  of  other  religions,  or  even  in  the  best  con- 
ceptions of  the  supernatural  found  in  the  poetry  or 
philosophy  of  the  world,  the  marvellous  elevation  and 
refinement  of  this  narrative.  We  do  not  know,  unless 
by  an  observation  and  consciousness  of  our  nature  the 
widest  and  deepest,  how  late  and  how  diflEicult  a  thing 
it  is  to  touch  the  supernatural  world  with  dignity. 
Whoever  approaches  that  mighty  sphere  seems  to 
suffer  some  belittling  or  derangement  of  faculty. 

So  also  as  to  the  amount  of  it.  Instead  of  being 
lavished,  as  is  nearly  inevitable  where  the  whole  range 
of  the  possible  is  put  within  our  reach,  there  is  here  and 
elsewhere  through  the  life  of  Christ  a  striking  economy 
of  the  supernatural.  There  seems  just  as  little  of  it  as 
the  circumstances  would  allow. 

Observe  here  the  blending  of  the  natural  and  the 
supernatural.  The  human  aspect  is  kept  entirely  hu- 
man, the  divine  is  left  entirely  divine,  and  neither  over- 
shadows the  other.  Nor  is  there  an  attempt  to  force 
the  human  into  a  consistency  with  the  divine.     I  mean 


CHRISTMAS.  21 

that  there  is  no  endeavor  to  make  this  human  child 
Jesus  equal  to  his  awful  character,  —  to  give  to  the 
babe  such  an  air  as  would  harmonize  it  with  the  sur- 
rounding of  heavenly  songs  and  angels  and  the  star 
and  the  magi ;  there  is  not  even  a  halo  of  divine  light 
about  the  head ;  he  is  not  depicted  as  strangling  ser- 
pents in  his  cradle.  There  is  the  babe,  and  not  any- 
thing but  a  helpless  human  babe. 

This  was  the  most  original  and  bold  of  conceptions, 
and  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  sufficiently  observed. 
None  of  the  wonder  or  the  greatness  is  in  the  child,  but 
around  it  and  above  it.  How  new!  how  unlike  all 
things  else  in  the  history  of  mere  wonder !  What  im- 
mense extremes  are  here  brought  together  without  the 
least  gradation  of  one  to  the  other !  So  unlike  man ! 
Yet  is  this,  if  it  be  examined,  infinitely  graceful,  touch- 
ing, and  significant,  and  sheds,  as  was  intended,  divine 
honor  upon  our  nature  as  it  is,  upon  womanhood,  upon 
childhood,  associating  together,  as  if  it  were  a  natural 
thing,  the  fairest  and  highest  things  of  heaven  with  the 
simple  and  humble  innocency  of  a  babe.  See  all  the 
powers  of  God  surrounding  it,  but  not  touching  it,  not 
raising  it  to  honor  it,  but  honoring  it  in  its  simple  help- 
lessness !  Was  ever  a  sight  more  impressive  to  the 
imagination?  But  its  significance  is  beyond  its  pic- 
turesque effect.  For  here  begins  that  history  of  a 
Being  who,  while  called  the  Son  of  God,  and  bearing 
in  his  hand  the  powers  of  the  world  unseen,  could  not, 
would  not,  do  anything  for  himself;  but  who,  from  the 


22  CHRISTMAS. 

babe  wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes  by  Mary  his  mother, 
to  the  helpless  figure  lifted  and  fastened  to  the  cross, 
"  was  made  in  all  things  like  unto  us." 

Notice  further  that  the  conception  here  of  the  true 
dignity  of  God  is  something  quite  startling.  Power 
and  exterior  magnificence  there  were,  to  be  sure, 
sufficient  to  illustrate  and  bear  witness  of  his  birth, 
but  observe  of  how  peculiar  and  subdued  a  tone  were 
even  these.  There  were  blessed  beings  filling  the 
midnight  heavens,  not  with  startling  exhibitions  of 
power,  but  only  singing  in  the  ears  of  simple  shep- 
herds a  cradle-hymn  sweetly  blending  with  the  image 
of  the  Virgin's  child  and  his  reign  of  holy  inno- 
cence, and  all  unlike  the  regal  grandeur  of  earthly 
imaginations;  this  too,  quiet  as  it  was,  lasting  but  for 
a  moment,  and  then  the  heavens  shut,  —  shut  until  his 
coming  again,  —  and  the  child  committed  first  to  a 
mother's  bosom  (the  only  home  where  the  Son  of 
man  ever  laid  his  head),  but  only  there  that  he  might 
be  nourished  to  bear  all  human  infirmities,  and  with 
them  darkness  and  poverty  and  contumely  and  stripes 
and  death.  That  is,  when  God  wished  to  set  forth  the 
inmost  brightness  of  his  own  nature,  the  express  image 
of  the  Highest,  he  sought  the  lowest  forms  of  humilia- 
tion to  show  it  in.  He  dismisses  heaven ;  he  dismisses 
the  white  and  blazing  companies  of  angels  so  soon 
as  they  have  announced  him ;  he  stops  the  only  carol 
ever  sung  over  him  almost  as  soon  as  it  has  begun; 
he  shuts  out   all   the  celestial.      The    Divine    inhabits 


CHRISTMAS.  23 

the  body  of  a  child.      It  is  a  child  so  born  that  the 
manger  is  the  place  for  him,  —  there  is  no  room  in  the 
inn.     He   lives  a  human  life  upon  the  earth,  choosing 
the  lowest  and  hardest  fortunes,  but  through  all  think- 
ing the  highest,  feeling  the  purest,  working  the  noblest, 
and  blending  all  together  at  last  in  the  death  of  the 
cross.     This,  I  say,  is  God's  conception    of  how   God 
might   best   live    and    show  the    godlike.      Behold    it! 
Ye    ambitious    for    the    splendors    and    power    of   the 
world;  ye  selfish,  striving  sons  of  men;  ye  who  sac- 
rifice   the    things    within    for    the    things    without,    to 
whom    a    blazoned    name    and    rank,    the    shining    of 
gold,  and  all   the  equipage  of  life   outshine   the  pure, 
generous    thought,  outshine    the    quiet    humble    spirit, 
the    daily    and    obscure    self-denial,    outshine   the    life 
which,  though  poor  and  dark  without,  is  lighted  with- 
in with  the  glory  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,  — all  ye, 
see !    be  rebuked !    be  shamed !     Learn  ye  to-day  the 
kingly  style,  the  Christian  rank ;  for  on  this  day,  by  and 
through   this  birth,  God   meant   to  reverse   the  whole 
prejudices  of  the  race, —  prejudices  which  have   sunk 
through    and    through    and    saturated    the    heart,    the 
imagination,   and    the  very  ground  of  the    soul.      He 
meant  this  as  a  costly  overthrow  of  the  taste,  of  the 
wisdom,  of  the  vain  admirations,  of  the  whole   estab- 
lished ideal  of  human  beings. 

But  is  it  overthrown?  The  style  of  the  king  rules 
the  heart  of  the  people  and  shapes  their  lives;  but 
the  style  of  this  our  King,  what  heart  adores  it,  what 


24  CHRISTMAS. 

life  is  moulded  to  it?  Ah,  if  he  were  our  King,  his 
ways,  his  fashion  —  may  I  call  it?  —  would  seize  our 
hearts.  A  little  way,  indeed,  it  has  penetrated.  The 
whole  world  should  bow  down  and  thank  God  to-day 
that  a  new  taste,  from  the  moment  of  that  birth,  be- 
gan gradually  to  dawn.  I  own  it  with  joy,  that  the 
birth  of  the  child  Jesus  has  not  been  in  vain.  I  own 
what  he  has  already  done  in  rectifying  the  false  esti- 
mates of  men,  in  penetrating  through  blood,  tradition, 
pomp,  to  set  our  hearts  upon  the  value  of  the  spirit, 
and  to  teach  us  to  measure  ourselves  and  others  by 
the  measures  of  the  soul. 

Let  us  with  the  eager  hearts  of  those  shepherds 
revisit  in  mind  that  village  of  Bethlehem,  and  gaze 
long  and  thoughtfully  at  the  sight  which  is  there  come 
to  pass.  He  blasphemes  this  day  who  does  not  re- 
member Christ  with  love  and  adoring  awe,  with  shame 
for  meanness  and  sorrow  for  sin,  with  wishes,  and  the 
beginnings  of  tender  hopes.  If  nothing  of  this  is  yours, 
then  the  birth  of  this  Saviour  is  nothing  to  you.  He 
may  have  taught  in  your  streets,  and  eaten  and  drunk 
in  your  presence,  but  verily  I  say  unto  you,  he  knows 
you  not. 


III. 

TEMPTATION    OF    CHRIST. 

The7i  was  Jesus  led  up  of  the  Spirit  into  the  'wilder?iess  to  be 
tempted  of  the  devil.  And  when  he  had  fasted  forty  days 
and  forty  nights,  he  was  afterwards  a  hungered.  And 
when  the  tempter  came  to  him,  he  said,  If  thou  be  the  Son 
of  God,  cojnmand  that  these  stones  be  made  bread.  But  he 
answered  and  said.  It  is  written,  Man  shall  not  live  by  bread 
alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of 
God.  —  Matt.  iv.  1-4. 

TN  representing  this  wonderful  transaction  to  our- 
-■-  selves  we  may  without  blame,  I  trust,  and  with 
profound  reverence,  do  it  in  this  way.  The  baptism 
being  over  which  had  publicly  set  Jesus  apart  to  his 
great  office  of  world-Redeemer,  and  new  and  mighty 
measures  of  the  Spirit  being  accorded  him,  there 
became  at  once  a  necessity  that  the  great  temptation 
of  his  existence  should  be  placed  here,  that  thus  the 
struggle  might  be  carried  into  all  the  experience  and 
call  forth  all  the  energies  of  his  nature. 

Perhaps  through  the  whole  of  this  record,  or  of  all 
the  records  of  man,  there  is  not  a  more  meaning  story 
than  this ;  and  yet  there  is  much  mystery  and  difficulty 
about  it.  It  is  variously  conceived.  But  I  shall  not 
enter  upon  a  discussion  as  to  whether  it  is  to  be  taken 
literally,  just  as  it  stands,   or  whether  the  workinc:  of 


26  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

the  spirit  of  evil  in  the  mind  of  Christ  with  such 
unusual  power  as  his  unusual  character  and  work 
would  naturally  call  forth,  aided  by  the  long  solitude, 
fasting,  and  weakness  of  body,  did  not  make  a  mental 
experience  represent  itself  to  him  as  an  outward  trans- 
action, just  as  is  always  in  some  degree  found  in  the 
experience  of  men  of  mighty  faith  in  the  invisible, 
and  called  through  mighty  struggles  to  mighty  works; 
or  whether  Christ  in  narrating  it  afterwards  did  not 
use  a  description  or  figure  which  to  his  hearers  seemed 
literal;  or,  in  fine,  whether  the  narrators  themselves 
intended  it  to  be  wholly  literal,  or  in  part  figurative. 
This  is  a  most  difficult  question  to  determine.  What- 
ever view  be  taken  of  it,  the  spiritual  meaning  remains 
the  same ;  and  it  is  that  only  which  I  wish  to  interpret. 

Conceive,  then,  the  mind  of  Christ  at  this  period. 
He  had  become  conscious  that  he  was  the  Messiah. 
Think  of  the  solemn  depth  of  excitement  aroused  by 
the  circumstances  of  the  baptism.  Feeling  then  within 
an  incredible  access  of  Spirit,  he  was  ''  led  up  of  the 
Spirit  into  the  wilderness." 

We  can  conceive  how  this  would  naturally  arise,  for 
God  does  everything  as  near  naturally  as  may  be.  A 
powerful,  overmastering  impulse  was  felt  for  seclusion 
and  preparation.  So  he  was  swayed  towards  the  wilder- 
ness, where  for  a  long  period  the  exalted  spiritual  con- 
dition he  was  in  superseded  the  ordinary  wants  of  the 
body,  or  enabled  him  to  triumph  over  them.  During 
this  period  of  thought  and  plan  the  magnificence  of  the 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  2/ 

powers  he  felt  to  be  in  his  possession,  and  the  stress 
of  his  sympathy  with  the  popular  and  universal  idea 
and  wish  as  to  the  Messiah,  must  have  influenced  his 
mind.  When  at  length,  however,  in  the  multitude  of 
his  thoughts,  growing  gradually  weaker  in  spirit  and 
body,  doubts  of  himself  began  to  rise,  proportioned 
in  intensity  by  the  greatness  of  the  reaction,  —  in  this 
condition  the  united  motives  of  intense  hunger  and 
desire  to  resolve  doubt  solicited  him  to  make  bread 
in  order  to  allay  appetite  and  prove  that  he  was  the 
Son  of  God.     This  he  resisted. 

If  a  full  consciousness  of  his  nature  and  of  the  future 
had  possessed  him  at  all  times,  without  weakness  or 
doubt,  then  he  could  not  have  lived  a  human  life  of 
infirmity,  temptation,  and  sorrow.  Such  a  conscious- 
ness would  have  borne  him  over  all,  as  a  strong  wind 
bears  a  cloud  into  the  higher  atmosphere  and  holds  it 
there,  in  sight  of  the  earth,  but  far  out  of  reach  of 
living  sympathy  and  fellowship  with  its  life. 

Now  I  see  in  all  this  what  I  believe  the  Christian 
world  overlooks  too  much  in  contemplating  Christ, — 
namely,  what  his  life  and  peculiar  trials  were.  Taking 
any  view  of  him  we  may  see  fit,  there  were  struggles 
arising  from  the  peculiarities  of  his  relations  which 
w^ere  perhaps  his  greatest.  See  what  the  temptation 
is  made  up  of,  and  conceive  the  intensity  of  it:  "If 
thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command  that  these  stones 
be  made  bread." 

There  was  much  to  say  for  such  a  course.     First, 


28  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

for  the  relief  of  doubt.  Can  we  conceive  anything  so 
apt  to  try  him?  We  know  that  doubts  of  the  Father's 
faithfulness  to  him  were  allowed  to  come  in  and  flood 
his  soul  with  darkness  in  the  last  hours  of  his  human 
agony:  *' My  God!  my  God!  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?"  I  have  the  impression  that  this  temptation  of 
doubt,  the  most  terrible  temptation,  I  think,  which 
ever  besets  the  sincere  heart,  was  not  through  all  his 
life  wanting  to  him  who  was  made  in  all  things  like 
unto  us.  Here  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  as 
Messiah  this  doubt  was  likely  to  occur  with  the 
greatest  force.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  living 
as  any  Jewish  youth,  with  a  growing  consciousness, 
no  doubt,  of  his  peculiar  relation  to  his  Father,  shown 
strikingly  when  at  twelve  years  of  age  he  left  Joseph 
and  Mary,  to  be,  as  he  expressed  it,  about  his  Father's 
business;  but  this,  I  suppose,  was  a  prominent  and 
rare  exhibition  of  this  state  of  feeling,  or  it  alone 
would  not  have  been  narrated.  He  grew,  I  dare 
say,  through  a  life  of  beautiful  but  natural  boy- 
hood and  early  manhood,  until  the  time  came  for  his 
showing  unto  Israel.  Then  suddenly,  at  his  baptism, 
he  was  publicly  recognized  by  John,  and  by  the  descent 
of  the  Spirit  seen  by  his  eyes  and  felt  inwardly  by 
his  heart.  Under  the  force  of  this  new  revelation  of 
himself  to  himself  he  was  led  up  into  the  wilderness, 
and  there,  while  yet  unconfirmed  in  this  startling, 
awful  consciousness  that  he,  even  he,  was  the  Messiah, 
he    was    subjected    at    once    to    such    desertion,    such 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  29 

bodily  need  (and  nothing  troubles  an  aspiring  soul 
quicker  than  the  wants  of  the  animal  nature),  such 
an  inroad  of  thoughts,  doubts,  wonderings,  that  a 
tempest  seemed  to  shake  the  very  foundations  of  his 
consciousness.  Oh  for  light !  give  me  light !  The 
devilish  darkness  seemed  to  smother  him;  and  then, 
just  then,  in  this  hunger  of  soul,  the  voice  came,  "  If 
thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command  that  these  stones 
be  made  bread,  —  at  once,  by  a  word,  satisfy  your 
mind  and  feed  your  body;  clear  all  mystery  at  once, 
by  simply  using  the  powers  you  have,  to  turn  these 
stones  to  bread." 

Now  this  was  a  temptation,  to  be  sure.  Why  should 
not  his  divine  power  be  used  here?  It  was  his,  quite 
as  much  as  the  gifts  of  a  gifted  man  are  his,  and 
infinitely  more.  The  best  of  men  would  count  it  an 
incredible  hardship  if  he  were  not  allowed  to  use  his 
talents  for  his  own  good  or  pleasure.  He  would  say: 
''lam  ready  to  own  that  the  highest  end  of  my  gifts 
is  the  good  of  others  and  the  honor  of  my  Creator; 
but  then,  I  am  to  love  others  as  myself,  and  not  more 
than  myself,  and  so  I  may  use  my  powers  for  my 
own  sake  also."  If  we  consider  the  height  of  the 
gifts  of  Christ,  and  the  lowliness  and  meekness  of  his 
position  when  stripped  of  them,  we  can  have  some 
thought  what  an  habitual  self-denial  it  was,  never  to 
use  his  powers  for  his  own  advantage. 

Here,  however,  was  a  case  clearly  beyond  even  this. 
The  question  was,    Would   he   use  his   gifts   to   clear 


30  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

doubt?  — that  first;  but  beyond  that  still,  to  avert 
death  itself?  ''  I  perish  with  hunger,"  was  his  feeling. 
Could  he  do  a  wiser  act  than  to  save  himself  by  a 
simple  word?  —  for  see  what  hung  upon  that  life. 
Could  he  not  employ  one  drop  of  his  almighty  deep 
of  power  to  save  himself?  ''  But  speak  the  word,  and 
these  stones  at  your  feet  will  be  bread,  and  body  and 
soul  will  both  go  forward  in  the  strength  of  this 
food." 

See  the  stress  and  reasonableness  of  the  tempter. 
So  much  motive  would  press,  even  were  there  no 
physical  temptation !  But  the  keen  pangs  of  hunger 
came  forward  with  all  the  forces  of  life  bent  with 
incredible  craving  for  food,  —  an  instinct  of  such  fe- 
rocity as  to  bear  down  all  the  humanity  before  it,  as 
even  can  make  the  mother  devour  her  child,  —  a  hun- 
ger for  food,  to  which,  together  with  the  hunger  for 
life,  the  Creator  has  committed  the  preservation  of 
our  being,  and  the  blind,  resistless  strength  of  which 
survives  and  triumphs  even  over  better  instincts,  and 
stands  as  the  last  and  mighty  warder  of  the  sacred 
treasure  of  life ! 

Hunger!  Not  one  out  of  millions  of  beings  ever 
knows  anything  of  it  but  its  first  whisper;  its  moans 
and  cry  are  unknown  even  to  the  imagination.  You 
may  hear  it,  indeed,  echoed  and  imaged  in  the  howl 
of  the  beasts  at  midnight  in  the  wilderness. 

Here,  then,  was  the  temptation  of  the  Son  of  God. 
Arrayed  against  his  holy  will  was,  first,  the  power  of 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  3 1 

natural  doubt  that  is  in  the  heart,  its  weakness  seek- 
ing assurance ;  second,  the  power  of  evil  that  is  in 
the  reason  presenting  a  case  in  which  the  highest 
intelligence,  unenlightened  and  unsupported  by  the 
noblest  virtue,  would  have  erred ;  and,  third,  the  stress 
of  the  very  inmost  of  the  bodily  powers,  hunger,  — 
the  solicitations  of  the  most  refined  self-regard  through 
all  the  range  of  it,  and  masked  under  public  motive, 
—  the  whole  contest  and  force  of  the  merely  human 
soul,  thought,  body,  centred  in  one  against  him ;  not 
against  the  centre  of  his  virtue,  but  against  the  sim- 
plicity and  entire  purity  of  it. 

This  was  the  tempting.  I  suppose  I  have  over- 
stated nothing,  for  all  this  is  implied  here,  and  much 
more.  And  now,  how  was  it  met?  "If  thou  be  the 
Son  of  God,  command  that  these  stones  be  made 
bread.  He  answered  and  said,  Man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proccedeth  out 
of  the  mouth  of  God."  "  Command  that  these  stones 
be  made  bread.  Use  your  powers."  *'No;  for  that 
cause  came  I  not  into  the  world,  but  to  obey  as  a 
son ;  and  in  doing  this  I  know  my  truest  life  will  live, 
and  even  my  lower  will  not  perish." 

Observe,  throughout  these  temptations,  that  they  are 
all  addressed  to  him  as  the  Son  of  God,  assuming 
that  he  should  claim  personal  privileges  on  that  ac- 
count. On  the  other  hand,  he  answers  them  all, 
assuming  the  rank  of  mere  manhood,  and  refusing  to 
use    his   divine    powers    for   himself.      '*  I   am    here    as 


32  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST, 

the  Son  of  God  in  my  powers  toward  men,  but  as  a 
man  only,  and  with  all  a  man's  needs  and  duties  and 
feelings,  in  my  relations  to  God."  To  maintain  this 
position  was  necessary  to  his  purposes,  and  consti- 
tutes, I  think,  one  of  the  greatest  trials,  as  well  as  one 
of  the  greatest  wonders,  of  his  career. 

*'  No ;  for  God  has  taught  me  that  over,  and  even 
against  the  ordinary  ways  of  nature,  should  it  be 
necessary,  his  power  will  interfere  for  me  if  I  trust  in 
him.  I  am  perishing  with  hunger,  yet  my  life  is  not 
dependent  on  bread,  but  upon  the  will  of  God,  who 
can  give  me  manna  in  this  desert,  as  once  he  did  of 
old.  Why  then  should  I  use  the  power  of  miracles 
merely  to  escape  dependence  upon  God?  for  that 
moral  life  of  manhood  is  a  far  higher  work  for  me 
than  to  succor  myself  by  miracles.  He  has  placed 
me  in  a  position  of  need  to  call  forth  my  trust  in 
him.  I  shall  not  make  my  miracles  a  means  of  get- 
ting clear  of  my  trust,  which  is  a  higher  act,  infinitely, 
than  the  use  of  power.  I  must  be  made  perfect  through 
sufferings.  So  far  from  being  distinguished  by  using 
power  in  my  own  behalf,  I  should  forego  power,  and 
commit  myself  to  God  more  than  all  others." 

Here,  then,  he  for  the  first  time,  and  out  of  the 
depths  of  his  heart,  discerned  the  wonderful  rule  for 
the  use  of  his  supernatural  powers.  He  was  to  make 
trust  his  help.  Filial  love  and  trust  were  all  he  had 
of  power  to  meet  all  want,  natural  or  supernatural. 
What  force  in  this  thought !     ''  Man  does  not  live  by 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  33 

bread  alone."  *'  Show  thyself  Son  of  God,"  says  the 
tempter,  "  by  making  bread  of  stones."  '*  I  show  my- 
self such,"  Christ  replies,  *'by  refusing  to  live  through 
the  trials  of  human  life  with  any  aids  different  from 
those  common  to  all  men,  and  by  refusing  to  exert 
any  power  but  the  divine  power  of  trust  open  to  all." 

We  see  in  this  a  rule  of  judgment  as  to  all  his  ex- 
periences. Wherever  trial  was  concerned, —  and  was 
it  not  concerned  in  all?  —  we  must  conceive  his  expe- 
rience as  identical  with  our  own ;  impossible  perhaps 
in  certain  things,  but  heightened  in  others.  ''  The 
Son  of  God  will  be  a  mighty  power,  serving  himself," 
says  the  Devil.  *'  The  Son  of  God  is  a  mighty  trust, 
serving  God,"  says  Jesus.  "  The  Son  of  God  will  save 
himself  by  physical  power."  "•  I  live  by  trust,"  says 
Christ. 

See  how  w^onderfully  opens  that  divine  philosophy 
of  faith  afterwards  taught  to  all,  and  constantly  reiter- 
ated, but  which  he  taught  not  as  a  mere  rule  out  of  his 
thought,  but  which  he  first  lived,  and  taught  to  others 
out  of  his  own  heart !  Here  he  began  his  public  life 
by  showing  a  divine  example  of  this  philosophy,  the 
energy  of  which  is  illustrious  to  the  invisible  worlds, 
and  only  dimly  perceived  by  us.  For  who  can  measure 
the  force  of  the  motives  which  went  against  all  this? 
Who  can  measure  the  measure  of  that  holy  energy 
which  saw  and  worked  out  the  divine  ideal  of  generous 
trust  against  the  most  splendid  worldly  ideal,  and  in 
the  face  of  such  solicitation  from  body,  soul,  and  spirit? 

3 


34  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

The  intensest  power  of  the  universe  seemed  first  drawn 
into  self,  and  then  that  self,  with  all  the  unimaginable 
might  of  its  interests,  he  yielded  ;  the  existence  —  shall 
I  say  it?  —  of  Almightiness  itself  he  seemed  ready  to 
sacrifice  rather  than  violate  that  one  element  of  life, 
love,  which  thus  seems  to  be  the  life  —  yes,  and  the 
power  —  of  Godhead  itself.  I  say  here  was  the  trial 
of  God. 

And  with  what  powers  did  I  say  it  was  met?  By 
that  power  given  to  us.  Look !  through  all  the 
thirst  of  his  needs,  and  though  power  lay  around  him 
like  an  overflowing  river  reaching  to  his  lips,  he  never 
touched  a  drop  of  it,  nor  cooled  his  parching  tongue, 
but  Hved  his  life  of  awful  glory  merely  as  a  man,  and 
with  the  powers  and  faculties  belonging  even  to  the 
meanest.  Divine  image !  example  of  supreme  height, 
set  forth  for  us  ! 

Now  the  great  lesson  here  for  the  human  race,  and 
for  us,  stated  generally,  is  that  all  temptations  are  to  be 
met  by  trust;  that  in  situations  where  it  is  actually  im- 
possible to  help  ourselves,  or  where,  as  in  the  case  of 
our  Lord,  it  would  be  doing  a  wrong  to  help  ourselves, 
—  that  is,  in  cases  where  we  are  in  effect  powerless,  in 
cases  where  we  are  called  to  bear,  and  not  to  do,  the 
will  of  God,  in  suffering  now,  or  in  the  menace  of  its 
coming,  —  in  such  cases  as  these,  where  the  instinct  of 
happiness,  or  the  instinct  of  life  itself,  would  tempt 
us  to  murmurings,  to  bitterness,  to  struggling  blindly 
against  accident,  or  evil  fortune,  or  whatever  it  is  in 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  35 

which  the  will  of  God  appears,  or  to  the  use  of  unlawful 
or  questionable  means  to  relieve  ourselves,  then  we  are 
to  say,  "  My  happiness,  my  life,  are  not  in  bread  alone, 
are  not  dependent  on  the  good  thing  I  now  seem  perish- 
ing for,  but  *  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God  '  shall  man  live.  My  life  rests  directly 
and  entirely  on  his  word,  and  I  am  not  made  the  de- 
pendent slave  of  the  events  or  facts  or  laws  of  this 
world.  His  word  spake  into  being  the  power  of  bread 
to  nourish  me,  and  of  all  natural  good  to  please  me, 
and  it  now  can  speak  again  and  feed  me  anew  on  some- 
thing else,  providentially  by  changing  my  situation  or 
changing  my  tastes  ;  or,  if  it  be  necessary,  miraculously; 
and  if  this  should  not  take  place,  why,  then  I  live  still. 
How?  Upon  his  will.  It  is  his  will  that  my  body 
perish,  but  that  my  being  shall  live  in  a  higher  sense ; 
that  as  the  body  flourished  and  grew,  so  the  blood  of 
my  soul  should  grow  vital,  and  the  whole  life  of  my 
soul  expand,  feeding  in  trust  upon  God  himself;  and  so 
I  rise  superior  to  all  ruin,  and  by  means  of  ruin,  living, 
when  I  perish,  '  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of 
the  mouth  of  God.'  " 

There  is  something  here  to  meet  the  very  deep- 
est experiences  of  our  life.  Once,  many  times,  in 
our  momentous  human  story,  we  too  are  in  wilder- 
ness and  seem  to  perish  of  hunger.  Earnest,  deep 
wants  of  our  hearts,  that  will  not  hear  of  disappoint- 
ment, are  yet  disappointed,  and  we  perish.  Through 
the  wilderness,   indeed,  we  go  all  our  days,  from  the 


36  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

first.  Everywhere,  in  everything,  there  is  a  check  to 
our  wishes.  Through  all  the  facts  of  life  runs  a  will 
without  us,  which  is  against  ours,  and  resists  us  and 
breaks  us  down  at  every  turn.  I  mean  that  from  the 
first  cry  of  the  infant,  through  all  the  wild  outcries 
of  our  spirits,  suppressed,  but  all  the  wilder,  deeper, 
for  that,  the  one  fact  is  proclaimed,  that  the  human 
being  hungers  in  the  wilderness,  and  like  the  beasts 
in  this  night  of  nature  cries  aloud  for  food  unto  God. 

But  if  this  cry  of  want  is  deep  and  piercing  for  what 
we  have  not,  oh,  how  deeper,  how  inexpressible,  when, 
having  got,  the  heart  is  bereaved  of  its  objects !  We 
are  beings  who  hunger  for  that  which  is  not  yet,  and 
wail  for  that  which  was  but  is  not  now ;  and  these  tears, 
cries  of  man's  hunger,  go  up  constantly  before  God. 
What  does  it  mean?  Can  we  not  understand,  can  we 
not  master  it?  The  Head  of  the  race  is  Christ;  and  if 
we  would  catch  the  meanings  of  his  life  we  could  un- 
derstand it,  and  if  we  would  catch  the  spirit  which  he 
had,  we  could  master  it.  In  the  Son  of  man  in  the 
desert,  without  food,  behold  yourselves !  Satisfied  as 
we  may  become  at  any  moment,  our  natural  life  as 
a  whole  is  —  and  is  the  most  deeply  felt  to  be  by  the 
deepest  spirits  —  a  hunger.  Man  is  placed  there,  too, 
not  by  blind  chance,  but  is  ''led  up  of  the  Spirit  into 
the  wilderness."  Behold  in  this  ourselves.  This  is  not 
all  confusion  and  meaningless :  the  Spirit  has  led  us  up 
into  this  life  for  great  objects,  —  this,  namely,  by  trial 
to  bring  out  the  vast  spiritual  powers  which  are  possible 


TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST.  37 

to  us,  and  which  arc  eternal.  These  are,  it  seems,  con- 
ditions of  the  birth  of  an  immortal ;  and  this  our  mor- 
tal life  is  but  the  soil  and  air  out  of  which  the  plant  is 
called  to  come  and  eternally  to  be.  It  is  for  the  bring- 
ing forth  of  the  true  immortal  man  that  all  the  appoint- 
ments of  this  natural  life,  and  all  its  costly  sorrows,  are 
not  a  superfluous  and  lavish  waste  of  means  and  a  more 
cruel  waste  of  feeling,  but  a  necessary,  and,  so  far  as 
may  be,  a  merciful  and  economical  preparative.  **  The 
creature  was  made  subject  to  vanity,  not  willingly,  but 
by  reason  of  him  who  hath  subjected  the  same  in  hope." 

Being,  then,  led  up  to  this  life  by  the  Spirit,  to  be 
tempted  or  tried,  our  one  concern  here  is  to  know 
how  to  meet  it  so  that  these  purposes  be  not  frustrated ; 
for  if  that  be,  oh,  the  waste  of  the  very  blood  in  our 
veins  and  the  marrow  in  our  bones,  —  waste  of  the 
throbs  and  agonies  and  life  of  our  hearts;  and  then 
the  waste  of  the  spirit  itself  in  the  pure  hereafter ! 
With  all  the  energy  of  attention  and  wish,  then,  look 
to  what  Christ  did. 

''  Satisfy  your  hunger,"  says  the  tempter,  "  by  any 
means  in  your  power;  let  your  first  aim  be  to  appease 
the  cravings  of  natural  life.  Even  if  you  have  divine 
powers,  prostitute  them  to  this,  and  command  that 
these  stones  be  made  bread." 

This  advice  prevails ;  and  see,  the  whole  w^orld  follows 
it.  Of  all  the  hungry,  how  many  reflect  and  say,  "  Why 
am  I  hungry;  and  has  not  my  Father  food  enough  and 
to  spare,  and  shall  I  not  return  and  look  to  him?  "     See 


7,S  TEMPTATION  OF  CHRIST 

the  world  all  hungry,  yet  all  seeking  bread  out  of 
stones,  some  by  begging,  others  by  trying  to  com- 
mand it,  according  to  their  characters  and  gifts. 

But  see  Christ,  the  divine  sufferer,  the  divine  con- 
queror (and  all  not  for  his  sake,  but  for  ours)  ;  look 
at  him!  Who  hungered  like  him?  Yet  he  kept  him- 
self in  his  integrity.  He  reserved  his  high  power  for 
other  purposes,  and  used  the  worst  exigencies  of  his 
natural  life  to  raise  himself  to  a  nearer  trust  in  God. 
Go  ye  and  do  likewise.  If  you  will  forget  for  what 
you  were  sent  into  the  world,  and  let  the  bitterness 
of  disappointment  harden  your  heart,  or  the  sweet 
insinuations  of  temptation  melt  it,  and  persuade  you 
that  if  you  become  but  a  little  less  pure  or  honest 
you  can  have  your  wish,  —  believe  not  that  you  will 
ever  reach  it.  The  soul  cannot  satiate  its  real  hunger 
anywhere  below  itself.  The  stones  will  never  become 
true  bread,  do  with  them  what  you  will. 

There  are  those  who,  when  they  find  their  worldly 
wishes  hard  to  realize,  lose  in  the  strength  of  their 
hunger  their  scruples  as  to  the  means  of  satisfying 
it.  Do  you,  in  pursuit  of  any  darling  object,  allow  a 
little  strain  upon  your  conscience?  Are  you  less  open, 
less  just,  less  merciful,  less  pure,  that  you  may  reach 
it?  Or  does  it,  at  least,  absorb  all  the  finer  faculties 
of  your  nature  in  its  pursuit?  Then  you  have  not 
learned  Christ  so  well  as  you  ought. 

Oh  that  we  might  all  know  it  in  the  centre  of  us,  — 
that  man  does  not  ''  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every 


TEMPTATION  OF   CHRIST.  39 

word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God,"  — 
that  in  bereavements,  or  in  the  vast  denial  of  our 
wishes,  found  in  every  bosom,  we  would  learn  to  draw 
very  near,  and  still  nearer,  to  the  source  of  true  life, 
and  trust  there  with  all  our  souls,  and  gather  life  from 
that,  though  we  be  alone  in  a  wilderness,  and  though 
we  have  no  bread  but  the  stones  at  our  feet !  "■  Seek 
ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness, 
and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you." 


IV. 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION. 

And  it  ca7ne  to  pass^  about  an  eight  days  after  these  sayings^  he 
took  Peter ^  and  John,  and  James  ^  and  went  up  into  a  motmiain 
to  pray.  Aiid  as  he  prayed,  the  fashion  of  his  countenance 
was  altered,  and  his  raiment  was  white  and  glistering.  And 
behold,  there  talked  with  hiin  two  men,  which  were  Moses  and 
Elias :  Who  appeared  in  glo?y,  and  spake  of  his  decease, 
which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem.  But  Peter  a?td 
they  that  were  with  him  were  heavy  with  sleep:  and  wheji 
they  were  awake,  they  saw  his  glory,  and  the  two  men  that 
stood  with  him.  And  it  caine  to  pass,  as  they  departed  front 
him,  Peter  said  imto  Jesus,  Master,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here  : 
and  let  us  make  three  tabernacles ;  one  for  thee,  and  otte  for 
Moses,  ajid  one  for  Elias  :  not  knowing  what  he  said.  While 
he  thus  spake,  there  came  a  cloud  and  overshadowed  them  :  and 
they  feared  as  they  entered  into  the  cloud.  Ajid  there  came  a 
voice  out  of  the  cloud,  saying,  This  is  my  beloved  Son  :  hear 
him.  And  when  the  voice  was  past,  Jestis  was  found  alone. 
And  they  kept  it  close,  and  told  no  man  in  those  days  any  of 
those  things  which  they  had  seen.  —  Luke  ix.  28-36. 

''  I  ^HIS  is  one  of  the  most  singular,  attractive,  and 
-*-  grand,  of  all  the  records  of  this  wonderful  Book. 
The  scene  was  formerly  supposed  to  be  Mt.  Tabor, 
the  highest  peak  in  Galilee.  At  all  events,  it  was  *'  a 
high  mountain."  He  took  by  selection  three  of  his 
disciples  into  this  lofty,  removed  spot,  where  there 
was  peculiar  solitude ;  where  they  were,  as  Saint 
Mark   says,  "  apart   by  themselves." 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.  41 

Now,  as  to  the  actual  order  of  the  events  there 
is  some  confusion  in  the  various  accounts,  but  they 
probably  took  place  as  follows :  There,  while  he  prayed 
he  was  transfigured ;  and  Moses  and  Elias  were  with 
him.  "  But  Peter  and  the  other  two  disciples  were 
heavy  with  sleep."  I  suppose  that  here,  as  in  the 
scene  in  Gethsemane,  while  their  Lord  was  engaged, 
they  slept;  and  so  the  transfiguration  and  the  high 
conference  took  place,  and  had  continued,  how  long 
we  know  not.  But  they  awoke.  ''  And  when  they 
were  awake,  they  saw  his  glory,  and  the  two  men 
that  stood  with   him." 

Now,  this  seems  but  a  splendid  dream,  a  divine  pa- 
geant rising  in  the  sleeping  visions  of  some  holy  soul. 
It  is,  in  fact,  called  a  **  vision,"  and  there  is  something 
about  it  to  tempt  us  to  the  impression  that  it  is  but 
a  grandly  mythical  scene.  So  far,  however,  as  the 
word  ''  vision  "  goes,  nothing  visionary  is  implied.  Its 
real- use  is,  a  transcendent  sight.  It  may  be  spec- 
tral, but  real.  The  scene  opened,  may  stand  out  of 
local  habitation  in  time  or  space,  as  in  the  vision  of 
Saint  Paul :  ''  Whether  in  the  body,  or  out  of  the  body, 
I  cannot  tell ;  "  but  even  then,  the  thing  is  none  the 
less  real. 

If  the  object  of  the  transfiguration  was  to  introduce 
once  and  for  a  little  while  a  divine  glory  into  the 
natural  and  homely  life  of  Christ  on  earth,  it  could 
not  be  done  better;  the  style  of  the  supernatural  is 
utterly  free   from    the  various   traits   of  human    origin 


42  THE   TRANSFIGURATION. 

which  always  accompany  the  false  supernatural.  The 
scene  is  simple,  significant,  divinely  grand,  and  without 
exaggeration  or  excess.  If  it  seems,  from  its  pecu- 
liarity and  splendor  and  exaltation,  as  contrasted  with 
the  extreme  realness  and  homely  plainness  of  the  ordi- 
nary history,  surprising  and  like  fiction,  consider  that 
this  could  not  have  been  otherwise.  To  introduce  a 
momentary  effulgence  into  the  life  of  Christ,  for  which 
there  were  most  important  purposes,  must  have  con- 
veyed the  impression  of  magnificent  fiction  and  dream. 
Try  your  conceptions  upon  it.  Consider,  besides, 
where  this  narrative  is  found,  —  in  what  Book,  I  mean, 
—  and  consider  what  Person  it  concerns,  for  what  pur- 
poses. The  parts  of  this  sacred  history  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  are  entitled  to  be  judged  together;  and 
if  so,  it  is  most  important  that  in  interpreting  any  part 
we  remember  the  whole.  Bearing  in  mind  who  Christ 
was,  keeping  in  view  the  reasons  for  self-obscuration 
and  humility  in  general,  and  on  the  supposition  of  the 
reality  of  spiritual  life,  which  our  senses  darken  as  a 
veil,  and  make  us  absurdly  sceptical  of,  —  when  we 
remember  how  a  painter  or  sculptor  who  has  the  genius 
of  his  art  may  take  the  lowest  and  most  earthly  face, 
and,  preserving  a  certain  identity,  may  remould,  re- 
light, remodulate,  so  as  to  exalt  it  to  an  ideal  grace 
and  majesty,  —  we  can  have  some  conception  of  the 
change.     *'  He  was  transfigured  before  them."  | 

What,  now,  were  the  purposes  of  this  scene?     Two, 
chiefly,  I  suppose,  —  a  purpose    in  respect   to   Christ, 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.  43 

and  a  purpose  in  respect  to  these  three  witnesses  and 
through  them  to  the  world. 

First,  a  purpose  in  respect  to  Christ.  Because  of 
his  divineness  we  forget  that  he  was  human.  As  in 
Gethsemane  **  there  appeared  an  angel  unto  him  from 
heaven,  strengthening  him,"  so  here,  —  confirmed  by 
the  fact  that  the  glory  began,  and  perhaps  was  almost 
finished,  before  seen.  And  so,  as  if  for  a  moment, 
the  Father  took  him  up  into  his  original  dignity,  that 
he  might  go  down  again  with  increased  power  into 
the  world. 

But  more  obviously  the  effect  of  the  scene  was 
designed  for  others,  to  manifest  forth  his  glory,  that 
his  disciples  might  believe  on  him.  They  needed  it. 
About  a  week  before,  the  melancholy  future  had  been 
laid  open  to  them.  So  he  stood  before  them  in  his 
glory,  transfigured  so  magnificently  that  only  their 
indefinable  sense  of  sameness  preserved  identity.  The 
countenance  and  form  which  were  **  marred  more  than 
any  man"  were  altered;  the  face  became  (erepov) 
another,  raised  to  such  beauty  and  dignity  as  would 
allow  one  of  these  sober  writers  to  say  that  it  should 
be  compared  with  the  sun,  —  *' and  his  face  did  shine 
as  the  sun,"  —  and  his  very  garments  of  such  purity 
and  splendor  that  the  words  used,  bring  before  us  the 
peculiar  clearness  of  pure  water,  or  the  polish  of  a 
golden  shield  when  it  blazes  in  the  sun,  or  the  twinkling 
of  a  star  and  the  flash  of  lightning. 

For  one  moment  ''  the  King  is  seen  in  his  beauty," 


44  THE    TRANSFIGURATION. 

seen  as  a  figure  fit  to  introduce  pure  life  and  immortal- 
ity, —  for  one  moment,  to  indulge  a  little  a  being  who 
judges  after  the  sight  of  his  eyes.  And  not  merely  that 
his  splendor  was  designed  to  impress,  but  the  whole 
transaction  to  teach  them  —  the  celestial  company  —  the 
relation  in  which  he  was  here  placed  to  those  figures  from 
the  past,  as  one  not  divided  from  the  past,  or  coming  to 
destroy  it,  but  to  fulfil ;  to  show  that  the  past  kingdom 
and  the  future  were  not  two  things  but  one  thing. 

And  observe,  from  out  of  the  past  the  two  figures 
most  significant  were  selected,  —  Moses,  the  estab- 
lisher  and  lawgiver  of  the  first  kingdom;  Elijah,  its 
restorer,  representing  with  Moses  the  whole  com- 
pany of  the  prophets.  These  "  appeared  in  glory  " 
with  him.  Two  figures,  glorious  themselves  and  stand- 
ing in  the  same  atmosphere  of  glory  with  him,  were 
a  sort  of  symbolical  method  by  which  God  owned,  and 
as  if  enshrined,  the  past  dispensations  as  his  own.  That 
was  an  important  teaching  then,  and  always.  But  there 
was  another  more  important,  —  that  these  past  dispen- 
sations should  be  seen  by  the  Jews,  but  not  too  glar- 
ingly seen,  vaguely  seen,  to  be  merged  or  lost  in  him. 
How  is  this  indicated?  Here  is  the  difficulty;  for  this, 
the  most  needed,  is  the  most  vague. 

The  figures,  to  be  sure,  are  in  harmony;  that  is 
something.  They  are  all  lustrous,  the  past  as  well  as 
the  present;  that  is  something  more.  But  what  in- 
forms us  who  of  them  are  the  servants  and  which  the 
Son?     Well,  three  things. 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.  45 

The  first  and  slightest  is  this:  that  to  these  Jewish 
minds  filled  with  unspeakable  awe  for  Moses  and  the 
prophets  both  these  figures  are  represented  as  sub- 
ordinate throughout  in  small  things,  such  as  the  order 
in  which  they  are  named.  That  they  stand  as  mere 
preparers,  though  splendid,  to  the  mysterious  third  and 
last  One,  wdio  was  the  "  author  and  finisher,"  is  beau- 
tifully seen  in  this.  Attend  to  the  narrative :  After 
the  disciples  had  been  roused  from  sleep,  and  had 
seen  the  Lord  and  the  two  who  were  with  him,  then 
it  seems  these  two  figures  of  the  past  began  to  recede. 
"  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  departed,"  or  while  they 
were  departing,  Peter,  transported  w^ith  their  presence, 
cried  out  as  if  to  detain  them,  *'  Master,  it  is  good  for 
us  to  be  here :  let  these  remain,  and  let  us  build  three 
dwellings;  one  for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and  one 
for  Elias."  He  wist  not  what  he  said,  but  in  the 
wild  joy  of  his  heart  he  spoke  out  what  he  felt.  But 
mark:  ''While  he  thus  spake,  there  came  a  cloud  and 
overshadowed  them:  and  they  feared  as  they  entered 
into  the  cloud."  It  was  the  presence  of  the  invisible 
God.  ''  And  there  came  a  voice  out  of  the  cloud, 
saying.  This   is   m.y  beloved   Son :    hear  him." 

There,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  emphasis  of  the  whole 
narrative.  Let  the  shadows  of  departed  systems  de- 
part; detain  them  not;  build  not  for  them;  build 
no  tabernacles  for  Moses  and  Elias;  turn  from  them 
and  from  all  other  names.  This  is  my  beloved  Son : 
hear  him. 


46  THE    TRANSFIGURATION.     . 

And,  last  of  all,  these  great  figures  are  presented 
as  looking  forward  to  his  death.  They  "spake  of  his 
decease  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem." 
This  seems  to  intimate  that  all  God  had  done  before, 
in  the  Mosaic  and  prophetic  economies,  yet  looked 
forward  and  pointed  to  a  coming  death,  as  the  object 
of  attention,  —  the  death  of  Christ.  They  "spake  of 
his  decease  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusa- 
lem," or  rather  they  spake  of  his  "  exodus,"  departure, 
or,  according  to  the  old  use,  a  departing  and  lead- 
ing out  of  bondage,  —  this  word  seeming  to  say  that 
his  death  was  that  final  and  universal  redemption 
from  bondage  which  was  rehearsed,  foreshadowed,  by 
the  great  symbol  of  the  exodus  of  Moses  and  the 
people  from  the  foreign  bonds  and  taskmasters  of 
Egypt  into  the  land  of  liberty  and  rest.  But  as  that 
exodus  was  of  the  earth,  this  heavenly,  so  this  De- 
liverer also  was  spiritual  and  heavenly  and  hence 
above  all,  to  whom  of  necessity  Moses  and  Moses' 
work  was  a  small  and  carnal  thing,  and  but  for  a 
moment. 

If  this  decease  was  the  great  event  of  interest  to 
these  glorious  persons,  it  could  only  have  been  because 
of  its  spiritual  effect  upon  the  world ;  and  as  it  was  a 
death  to  be  accomplished,  and  accomplished  at  Jeru- 
salem, the  Mount  of  Expiation,  and  accomplished  by 
an  exalted  Being,  in  a  mighty  suffering,  for  spiritual 
purposes,  it  was  of  course  in  a  real  sense  a  sacrifice; 
and  a  sacrifice  of  such  substance,  of  such  sort,  of  such 


THE    TRANSFIGURATION.  47 

magnitude,  that  all  others  became  at  once  mere  gross 
shadows,  so  spiritualizing,  so  divinely  enlarging  the 
very  idea  of  sacrifice,  as  of  course  to  terminate  and 
put  away  and  put  to  shame  all  other  sacrifices,  except 
as  mere  figures  of  the  true.  The  temple  and  altar  and 
sacrifices  of  Moses,  all  founded  on  the  idea  of  death 
for  sin,  all  necessarily  become  nothing,  and  all  must 
disappear,  when  we  see  Moses  himself  speaking  of 
the  Lord's  death,  speaking  of  such  another  death  than 
that  he  had  appointed,  such  other  blood  from  that  he 
had  poured  out. 

So  when  Moses,  the  great  institutor  of  the  altar  and 
the  victim,  spoke  of  His  death,  when  he  who  appointed 
the  lamb  of  the  atonement  saw  before  him  another 
Lamb  of  sacrifice,  as  it  is  evident  he  did,  —  it  is  not 
straining  the  matter  too  far  to  think  that  it  was  in- 
tended to  intimate  that  the  old  priest  who  offered  the 
blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  and  the  old  animal  victims 
themselves  which  were  offered,  became  nothing,  and 
he  who  instituted  them  nothing,  and  that  the  whole 
system  was  at  once  fulfilled  and  lost  in  a  Being  who 
came  bringing  a  divine  humanity  as  an  offering  to  God 
and  man. 

So  much,  then,  as  to  the  significance  of  this  scene 
in  reference  to  the  sacrificial  side  of  the  old  economy 
represented  by  Moses,  and  then  as  to  the  line  of 
prophets  whom  Elias  stood  for.  They  were  essen- 
tially spiritual  teachers;  in  what  sense,  then,  could 
they  look  forward  to  his  death  as  fulfilling  and  merg- 


48  THE   TRANSFIGURATION. 

ing  their  function  in  a  higher?  I  answer  that  that 
death,  both  for  light  and  power,  both  for  instruction 
and  effect  upon  the  human  soul,  consummated  all 
teaching.  The  blood  of  the  cross  was  a  voice  crying 
out  of  the  ground,  and  shaking  not  the  earth  only, 
but  also  the  heavens.  What  was  the  whole  crowd  of 
prophets  to  that  one  Prophet  perishing  for  the  race? 
Was  their  object  deliverance,  redemption,  to  deliver 
the  people  from  all  thraldom  without  and  within,  from 
the  bands  of  folly  and  crime  and  sense?  Was  this  the 
end  of  their  sublime  agonies?  If  so,  can  you  con- 
ceive anything  finer  than  that  this  goodly  fellowship 
of  the  prophets  should  look  forward  with  unspeak- 
able solemnity  and  interest  to  that  death  which  should 
ring  *'  freedom "  and  '*  redemption "  into  every  ear 
through  all  the  coasts  of  the  earth?  The  old  law, 
the  old  holiness  and  justice,  breathed  through  their 
lips,  was  weak  when  they  cried  the  loudest,  the  ear 
was  heavy  that  it  could  not  hear;  but  here  was  a 
death  to  be  "  accomplished,"  which  should  awe  the 
world ;  a  death  which  was  itself  obedience  to  all  law, 
honor  to  all  justice  at  any  cost,  and  the  promulga- 
tion of  the  new  and  higher  edicts  of  mercy  to  man- 
kind. How  full,  then,  of  meaning  that  these  sublime 
figures,  speaking  for  law,  for  sacrifice,  for  spiritual 
life,  should  appear  with  him  in  glory,  themselves 
glorious,  and  yet  speaking  of  and  looking  to  that 
death ! 

This  subject  will  have   enough  of  practical  instruc- 


THE    TRANSFIGURATION.  49 

tion  and  imoressiveness  if  we  leave  it  now,  having- 
'  done  no  more  than  pass  before  us  the  scene  and  its 
meaning. 

According  to  Saint  Luke,  this  scene  arose  Hke  an 
exhalation  from  prayer.  "  As  he  prayed,  the  fashion 
of  his  countenance  was  altered."  It  was  one  of  those 
occasions  of  designed,  deliberate,  lengthened,  and  most 
exalted  communion  with  the  Father.  *'  He  took  Peter 
and  John  and  James,  and  went  up  into  a  mountain  to 
pray.  And  as  he  prayed,  the  fashion  of  his  counte- 
nance was  altered,  and  his  raiment  was  white  and 
glistering."  This  is  a  picture,  as  it  were,  drawn  by 
God,  of  prayer  and  its  results.  And  oh  that  we 
would  know  once  for  all  that  the  outside  is  nothing 
to  the  inside,  and  that  transfigurations  far  more  divine 
than  this  sight  to  the  eye  take  place  wherever  true 
prayer  rises  to  God  ! 

Observe  also,  for  your  consolation,  ye  who  have 
buried  the  dead  from  your  sight,  and  who  yourselves 
must  soon  be  numbered  with  them,  the  image  here  of 
the  resurrection  and  of  resurrection  bodies.  See  this 
body  the  same,  yet  how  changed !  and  wrought  as 
naturally  as  you  have  seen  a  dark  and  ragged  mass 
of  vapor  in  the  heavens  pass  into  an  object  of  splen- 
dor fit  to  be  an  ornament  to  that  place  where  dwells 
the  very  presence  of  the  Majesty  on  high.  *'  So  also 
is  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  It  is  sown  in  corrup- 
tion ;  it  is  raised  in  incorruption :  it  is  sown  in  dis- 
honor;   it   is    raised    in    glory."      Yes,    fellow-mortals, 

4 


50  THE    TRANSFIGURATION. 

some  of  us  at  least  shall  be  transfigured  like  this ;  for 
*'we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 
him ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is,"  —  and  not  only 
like  this  splendid  transfigured  person,  but  with  him : 
*'  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given 
me  be  with  me  where  I  am." 

I  have  said  that  the  sacredness  of  the  old  Hebrew 
Testament  was  signified  in  the  feeling  of  Peter  as  to 
the  common  glory  of  all  the  three  great  figures  before 
him :  "  And  as  they  departed  from  him,  Peter  said 
unto  Jesus,  Master,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here:  and 
let  us  make  three  tabernacles ;  one  for  thee,  and  one  for 
Moses,  and  one  for  Elias."  But  I  reserved  to  the  last 
the  way  in  which  this  scene  was  so  contrived  as  to  give 
the  most  sublime  eminence  to  Christ.  Listen :  "  While 
Peter  thus  spake,"  —  while  he  was  eagerly  soliciting 
tabernacles  for  all,  —  "  there  came  a  cloud,  and  a  voice 
out  of  the  cloud,  saying,  This  is  my  beloved  Son: 
hear  him,"  —  that  is,  not  Elias  and  Moses  and  Christ. 
This  is  the  King;  this  is  He  —  this;  no  servant,  no 
mere  delegate,  however  imperial ;  this  is  a  Son ; 
"  my  Son  ;  "  *'  my  beloved  Son  :  hear  him."  Silence, 
all  other  voices ;  silence,  the  voices  of  lawgivers  and 
sages  through  all  antiquity;  silence,  ye  illustrious  lead- 
ers of  the  people  of  God ;  silence,  Sinai.  There  is 
another  voice,  which  "  shall  not  strive,  nor  cry,  neither 
shall  any  man  hear  his  voice  in  the  streets."  Listen : 
"  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me,  because  he  hath 
anointed    me  to    preach  the    gospel  to  the  poor;    he 


THE    TRANSFIGURATION.  51 

hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach 
dehverance  to  the  captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to 
the  bHnd,  to  set  at  Hberty  them  that  are  bruised,  to 
preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 

We  are  sinful  men;  we  are  grown  hard  in  secular- 
ity,  in  sorrows,  in  sins;  but  at  that  still,  small  voice 
of  hope  and  tenderness  we  stop.  Yes,  Master;  speak 
on,  thou  voice  of  mercy !  Speak  down  into  the  depths 
of  all  human  sorrow  and  sin  and  hopelessness  and 
fears.  Speak  with  that  voice  which  raises  even  the 
dead. 

Friends,  many  questions  may  be  asked  about  you, 
but  there  is  only  one  of  import.  Are  you  listeners 
to  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God?  All  duties  may  be 
gathered  up  into  one.  Do  we  obey  the  voice  which 
spake  out  of  the  cloud  on  the  Mount  of  Transfigura- 
tion? Listen  to  the  resting  and  strengthening  words. 
Down  in  the  depths  of  human  sin,  of  human  trial,  of 
human  sorrow  and  hopelessness,  —  in  all  that  cloud 
of  evil  and  of  fear  in  which  mortality  is  sunk,  that 
voice  of  the  Father  always  breaks  out  of  the  cloud: 
"This  is  my  beloved  Son;    hear  him." 


V. 

THE    LORD'S    SUPPER. 

This  is  7ny  body.  —  Luke  xxii.  19. 

TF  we  did  not  see  every  day  that  men  give  to  the 
-■-  language  and  acts  of  one  another  a  color  varying 
almost  indefinitely,  according  to  the  tone  and  views 
of  their  own  minds,  —  if  we  were  not  accustomed  to 
this,  we  should  be  astonished  at  the  wide  difference 
of  opinion  in  the  Christian  world  as  to  the  meaning 
of  the  New  Testament. 

It  is  not  the  difference  of  religious  opinions  which 
has  made  such  sad  havoc  in  the  Church,  but  the  spirit 
with  which  these  differences  are  maintained.  So  long 
as  there  are  peculiarities  among  men,  there  will  be 
certain  degrees  and  aspects  of  doctrine  better  fitted 
to  one  class  than  another.  The  truly  desirable  unity 
in  the  Christian  Church  consists  not  in  this,  that  all 
men  should  interpret  sacred  Scripture  in  precisely  the 
same  way.  No ;  the  unity  to  be  longed  for  is  a  unity 
of  spirit,  and  that  Christian  people  should  improve 
themselves  in  candor,  forbearance,  humility,  and  love, 
and  thus  educe  a  higher  unity  out  of  all  differences. 

These  remarks  are  naturally  suggested  by  the  text, 
"This  is  my  body."    As  to  what   the    Saviour   meant 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  53 

when  he  instituted  his  supper,  milHons  of  men,  for 
several  centuries,  have  disputed,  and  the  fiercest  con- 
troversy is  to  this  day  waged  concerning  it. 

One  of  the  chief  distinctions  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  is  their  doctrine  upon  this  subject.  It  is  very 
precisely  expressed  in  one  word,  Transubstantiation, — 
a  word  first  applied  to  it  by  Stephen,  Bishop  of  Autun, 
—  that  it  is  the  real  body  and  blood.  Their  evidence 
for  this  they  find  in  the  words  of  Christ.  He  does  in- 
deed call  the  bread  his  body,  —  "This  is  my  body;" 
just  in  the  same  style,  however,  as  *'  This  is  the 
Lord's  passover,"     *'  Which  rock  was  Christ." 

Our  Lord  uses  the  very  same  figure  when  speak- 
ing of  truth  in  general,  or  of  his  truth :  "  I  am  the 
bread  of  life :  he  that  cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger, 
and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  thirst."  In 
the  same  style  he  tells  the  woman  of  Samaria  that 
whosoever  would  drink  of  the  w^ater  that  he  should 
give  him  should  thirst  no  more.  He  seems  to  have 
provided  against  any  such  interpretation  as  this,  by 
eating  and  drinking  of  the  body  and  blood  while  as 
yet  he   sat  by  their  side. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  doctrine  is  contradictory  to 
our  faculties ;  I  have  never  thought  so,  though  the 
large  mass  of  Catholics  and  most  Protestants  view  it 
in  such  a  way  as  would  certainly  make  it  so.  Accord- 
ing to  the  ordinary  view  of  Transubstantiation,  the 
bread  and  wine  are  changed  at  once  into  all  properties 
of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  and  yet  are   in  some 


54  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER, 

respect  bread  and  wine.  This  would  be  to  disbelieve 
the  eyes  and  taste,  and  to  deny  reason.  But  many 
Roman  Catholic  theologians  state  the  doctrine  in  less 
exceptionable  terms;  namely,  that  the  transubstantia- 
tion  does  not  occur  in  the  ordinary  properties  of  the 
bread  and  wine,  but  in  that  substance,  or  something, 
which  underlies  all  the  properties  of  matter,  —  that  it 
is  which  is  changed  from  the  substance  of  bread  into 
the  substance  of  Christ's  body. 

Although  this  may  be  an  entirely  incorrect  philoso- 
phy, which  separates  between  the  substance  of  matter 
and  its  properties,  yet  this  view  of  the  subject  removes 
its  more  obvious  objections.  But  at  the  same  time 
it  really  changes,  if  looked  into,  the  whole  doctrine, 
and  makes  that  which  is  called  matter  really  spirit, 
which  can  only  be  spiritually  received.  Wherever 
throughout  the  world  the  officiating  priest  utters  the 
last  syllable  of  the  form  of  consecration  (it  is  not 
deemed  to  take  place  until  that  sound),  this  awful 
change  occurs.  *'  This  is  my  body,"  "  This  is  my 
blood,"  —  at  the  sound  of  these  creating  or  at  least 
producing  words  the  mighty  production  /ollows. 

The  strange  views  and  evils  into  which  this  doctrine 
leads  I  will  not  notice.  One  only  let  me  mention, —  as 
the  bread  and  wine  become  the  veritable  body  and 
blood  of  Christ,  they  are  from  that  moment,  until  the 
bread  becomes  corrupt  and  the  wine  dead,  regarded 
and  treated  with  all  the  adoration  due  to  Christ  him- 
self,   and    so    worshipped    everywhere;     every    crumb 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  55 

and  particle  is  instinct  with  the  Godhead;  raised  on 
high  on  the  altar  with  great  pomp  to  be  worshipped; 
carried  in  solemn  procession  to  be  worshipped.  In 
the  vast  cathedral  thousands  prostrate  themselves  be- 
fore it,  and  the  knee  is  bent  to  it  in  the  crowded  street. 
Now,  were  it  certain,  according  to  their  own  views,  that 
the  real  presence  of  Christ  was  in  these  elements,  the 
adoration  would  be  less  painful. 

But  it  was  my  purpose  merely  to  state  the  different 
views.  At  the  aw^aking  of  mind  at  the  Reformation, 
Luther,  dissatisfied  with  the  idolatry  of  the  bread  and 
wine,  and  yet  believing  it  to  be  literally  true  that  the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ  were  present  in  the  sacra- 
ment, devised  a  plan  which  he  thought  would  avoid 
difficulties.  He  taught,  therefore,  that  the  body  and 
blood  were  actually  in  the  consecrated  bread  and  wine, 
but  in,  with,  and  under  it,  and  that  the  bread  and 
wine  remained  unchanged.  This  is  called  Consubstan- 
tiation.  He  thus  avoided  the  worship  of  the  bread  and 
wine;  but  in  point  of  reason  the  doctrine  appears  to 
me  much  less  defensible  than  that  of  Transubstantiation. 

Zwingle,  the  illustrious  Swiss  reformer,  a  man  second, 
in  my  opinion,  to  none  of  the  reformers,  and  to  whose 
name  history  has  not  done  justice,  —  Zwingle  saw 
clearly  the  weakness  of  Luther's  view,  but  passing  to 
the  contrary  extreme,  reduced  the  sacrament  too  near 
to  the  nature  of  a  commemorative  supper.  His  view 
is  approached  by  a  very  large  number  of  Protestants, 
and   by  the  Unitarians  is  reduced   yet   more;  for  with 


56  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

them,  as  I  believe,  it  is  strictly  and  only  a  solemn 
and  impressive  memorial  of  the  death  of  Christ. 

None  of  these  views  can  be  called  entirely  erroneous. 
Each  of  them  ought  rather  to  be  considered  either  as 
defective  only  or  as  the  exaggeration  of  what  is  really 
true  and  important.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  most 
true,  as  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Lutheran  think,  that 
there  is  a  real  and  actual  presence  of  Christ  in  this 
his  supper.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  less  true,  as 
some  Protestants  think,  that  this  is  a  grand  memorial 
act,  —  that  one  of  its  greatest  purposes  is  to  call  to 
mind ;  but  this  is  not  all.  Something  important  has 
been  dropped. 

Though  we  must  regard  both  these  views  on  either 
extreme  as  erroneous,  yet  they  are  not  without  this 
value,  at  least,  that  each  gives  especial  and  emphatic 
effect  to  some  one  aspect  of  the  truth.  But  what  is 
our  view  of  this  matter?  It  is  a  view  not  without 
great  difficulties,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  represent  it 
otherwise.  We  find  in  our  Twenty-eighth  Article  these 
two  assertions :  **  To  such  as  rightly,  worthily,  and  by 
faith  receive  the  same,  the  bread  which  we  break  is  a 
partaking  of  the  body  of  Christ,  and  likewise  the  cup 
of  blessing  is  a  partaking  of  the  blood  of  Christ."  This 
alone  might  mean  Transubstantiation.  Another  asser- 
tion, however,  is  added  :  "  The  body  of  Christ  is  given, 
taken,  and  eaten  in  the  supper  only  after  a  heavenly  and 
spiritual  manner;  and  the  mean  whereby  the  body  of 
Christ  is  received  and  eaten  in  the  supper  is  Faith'' 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  57 

Now,  although  there  is  some  appearance  of  con- 
fusion in  this  language,  it  certainly  means  two  things, 
—  that  while  the  wJiole  is  a  spiritual  proceeding,  yet  it 
still  in  some  way  puts  us  in  possession  of  and  union 
with  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ;  that  we  eat  but 
the  consecrated  bread  and  wine,  and  yet  in  doing  that 
are  united  to  the  whole  person  of  Christ,  body  as  well 
as  soul.  This  will  not  appear  contradictory  if  it  be 
thus  explained :  by  the  sensible  effect  of  bread  and 
wine  presenting  vividly  to  the  imagination  the  Saviour 
broken  and  bleeding,  —  by  this,  and  by  the  special 
promise  of  God,  believers  in  the  sacrament  are  spirit- 
ually united  to  Christ  in  an  emphatic  and  eminent  de- 
gree:  their  spirit  to  his.  A  transubstantiation  takes 
place,  but  a  far  more  profound  one  than  a  change  of 
body,  —  a  changing  over  of  the  very  substance  of  the 
believer's  spirit  into  that  of  his  Lord.  This  union, 
thus  begun  in  the  spirit,  has  in  it  the  germ  of  a  union 
extending  down  through  the  whole  nature,  even  by  the 
force  of  the  one  divine  Spirit,  which  is  able  to  subdue 
all  things  even  unto  itself.  In  the  words  of  Arch- 
bishop Seeker :  *'  The  pious  and  virtuous  receiver 
eats  the  flesh  and  drinks  the  blood,  in  the  sense  that 
he  shared  in  the  life  and  strength  derived  from  his 
incarnation  and  death,  and  through  faith  in  him 
becomes  by  a  vital  union  one  with  him."  Or  we 
might  go  further:  it  is  through  this  spirit  only, 
which  will  work  out  all  its  results  in  due  season,  — 
it   is  through   it  that  we   become  "  members,"  as   the 


58  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

apostle  says,  "  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of  his 
bones." 

Though  no  one  may  conceive  rightly  as  to  the  mode, 
it  seems  clear  enough  that  no  other  view  fully  satisfies 
Scripture  language,  which  on  the  one  hand  requires 
(if  we  give  it  anything  like  its  due  and  natural  force) 
the  most  intimate  union  conceivable  between  Christ 
and  his  people,  and  on  the  other  hand  requires  no 
less  that  the  union  be  not  a  gross  communication  of 
body  and  blood,  but  spiritual,  or  at  least  begun  in 
spirit. 

When,  therefore,  the  emblem  of  the  broken  body 
is  placed  in  the  hand  of  the  humble  and  penitent  be- 
liever, and  he  hears  the  voice  of  his  divine  Master 
saying  to  him,  "  This  is  my  body,  broken  for  you,"  let 
him  realize  vividly  the  presence  and  forgiveness  and 
love  of  his  Saviour,  and  surrender  his  whole  being, 
body,  soul,  and  spirit,  into  communion  and  union 
with  him. 

I  have  now  stated  as  well  as  I  could  in  so  small  a 
space  the  different  opinions  of  this  ordinance,  and 
what  we  suppose  is  the  true  view  of  it.  Let  me  briefly 
advert  to  some  of  the  benefits  of  it.  But  these  are  in 
no  wise  to  be  attained  by  those  who  lightly  or  unad- 
visedly come  to  this  holy  feast.  There  must  be  con- 
sideration, self-examination,  unfeigned  sorrow  for  sin, 
and  a  humble  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  "whose  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin."  Without  this  temper,  we  but 
eat  and    drink   judgment   to   ourselves.     I  do   not  say 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  59 

"  damnation "  to  ourselves,  as  it  is  in  our  version,  for 
that  by  common  consent  is  not  the  proper  translation 
of  the  word,  and  is  so  awful  as  only  to  be  fitted  to 
discourage  or  even  destroy  the  soul. 

Approaching,  then,  in  a  fit  temper  of  mind  this  holy 
communion,  we  shall  surely  find,  as  I  have  said,  its  bene- 
fits to  be  great.  Nothing  could  be  devised  which  is  a 
greater  assistance  to  the  weakness  of  faith.  We  as  it 
were  "  touch  and  taste  and  handle  "  the  Word  of  life ; 
the  great  Sacrifice  once  offered  for  the  sins  of  the  world 
is  placed  in  our  midst.  Here,  too,  is  a  lesson  of  humil- 
ity and  penitence  most  impressive.  Here  is  the  Son 
of  God  set  forth  as  made  a  sin-offering  for  us.  The 
scene  of  the  crucifixion  is  lived  over  again,  and  we 
look  upon  him  whom  we  have  pierced,  and  wail  be- 
cause of  him !  It  is  to  this  mind  that  God  would 
bring  us.     Prayer  made  to  him  will  then  be  answered. 

"A  broken  heart,  my  God,  my  King, 
Is  all  the  sacrifice  I  bring ; 
The  God  of  grace  will  ne'er  despise 
A  broken  heart  for  sacrifice." 

But  it  is  not  only  or  chiefly  a  feast  of  sorrow;  it  is 
a  feast  of  joy,  a  sacrament  of  thanksgiving  and  hope 
and  love.  As  to  thankfulness  and  hope,  in  our  church 
service  we  find  that  this  is  ranked  as  the  first  and 
highest  of  all  the  acts  of  worship  which  the  occasion 
should  call  forth. 

With  joy  should  we  take  the  cup  of  salvation.  We 
are  admitted  to  drink  of  the  wells  of  eternal  life.     We 


6o  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

are  admitted  to  mystical  union  with  Christ.  What 
unspeakable  gifts  are  freely,  sensibly  offered  to  all, 
even  to  the  vilest  of  sinners.  The  hopeless,  the 
outcast  returning  homeward,  see  here  hung  out  the 
signals  and  pledges  of  peace,  of  forgiving  love,  of 
reconciliation   and  restoration. 

Besides  these  things,  this  is  the  great  sacrament  of 
love.  '*  Herein  was  love,  that  this  man  laid  down  his 
life  for  his  friends."  To  perpetuate  forever  before  the 
eyes  of  the  race  the  sight  of  his  dead  body,  broken 
for  us,  and  thus  to  melt  into  deepest  tenderness  the 
heart,  —  this  was  the  great  purpose  of  the  institution. 
"  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me."  There  is  in  this 
more  to  draw  and  chain  the  human  heart  to  duty  than 
all  the  systems  of  morality  ever  devised.  ''  If  a  man 
love  me,  he  will  keep   my  words." 


VI. 

THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

It  was  the  third  hour,  and  they  a'ucijied  him.  —  Mark  xv.  25. 

^  I  ^HE  law  of  suffering  and  effort  as  a  condition  of 
-*-  the  evolution  of  character,  and  of  its  exhibition 
and  influence,  I  take  to  be  the  widest  and  deepest  law 
under  which  all  spirits  stand.  God  has  prepared  a 
great  spectacle  of  suffering.  Why?  No  suffering  is 
fortuitous,  —  that  God  doth  not  willingly  afflict  is  a 
great  truth,  —  least  of  all  the  suffering  of  Christ. 
Why,  then? 

First,  his  sufferings  were  necessary,  not  only  to  mani- 
fest but  also  to  originate  that  excellence  which  seems 
most  divine  to  our  conceptions,  and  which  is,  in  fact,  a 
new  type  of  the  nature  of  the  invisible  God.  I  mean 
that  God,  viewed  as  giving  his  Son  to  suffer,  and  the 
Son  of  God  viewed  as  suffering,  present  an  image  of 
moral  or  divine  excellence  unspeakably  above  any  other 
image  of  the  divine  nature  it  is  possible  for  us  to  think 
of,  and  that  suffering  was  the  necessary  condition 
through  which  this  exhibition  originated  and  was  made. 
I  view  the  agony  of  Calvary  as  the  means  of  a  new  era 
in  the  manifestation  of  God,  in  that  it  presented  the 
divine  nature  in  the  position   (in   some  real  sense)   of 


62  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

trial,  of  exigency,  of  painful  and  indescribable  effort  in 
behalf  of  the  creature.  "  He  learned  obedience  by  the 
things  which  he  suffered."  He  was  made  "  perfect 
through  sufferings." 

Secondly,  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were  intended  to 
be  of  infinite  value  to  man  as  a  solace  for  his  miseries 
in  the  loneliness  of  the  human  soul,  especially  in  its 
deeper  experiences, — and  as  a  guide,  incentive,  and 
benign  exemplar  through  the  difficulties  of  his  life  and 
death.  '*  We  have  not  an  high  priest  which  cannot  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities." 

Thirdly,  these  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ  were  the 
penalty  for  the  sins  of  mankind.  He  was  set  forth  as 
a  sacrifice,  the  Lamb  slain  in  our  place  and  for  us.  I 
do  not  mean  that  Christ  bore  in  himself  the  penalty 
that  we  should  have  borne.  Abhorred  be  the  thought 
that  he  should  feel  in  his  soul  any  consciousness  of 
guilt,  any  agony  of  remorse !  Divinely  innocent 
Sufferer,  far  be  that  from  thee !  The  weak  and  false 
fancies  of  men  have  made  this  divine  Lamb  to  bear 
our  precise  penalty,  both  as  to  the  sort  of  suffering  and 
the  degree  of  it.  As  to  the  nature  of  these  sufferings, 
and  how  they  availed  to  our  acquittance,  we  can  say 
nothing  at  present.  It  is  sufficient  to  know  that  they 
were  borne  purely  for  us,  and  that  the  result  of  them 
is  freedom,  life,  salvation,  unconditioned  and  unstinted, 
to  every  one  who  believes. 

In  view  of  all  this,  I  say  that  the  right  feeling  and 
comprehension  of  the  sufferings  of  Jesus   Christ  con- 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  63 

stitutc  the  whole  of  the  Gospel  of  God.  It  is  the  spe- 
cial will  of  God  that  we  should  deliberately  contemplate 
it.  This  is  our  warrant  for  intruding  into  precincts  so 
sacred. 

If  I  were  not  forbidden  by  Christianity  to  do  so,  I 
should  suppose  the  fact  of  the  necessity  of  suffering 
reached  up  even  to  the  divine  nature  itself,  —  that 
God's  purposes,  in  common  with  those  of  all  the  crea- 
tures made  in  his  image,  could  only  be  worked  out  by 
sacrifice,  by  losing  the  life  and  finding  it  again,  by  effort, 
through  a  dark  element  which  is  against.  Look  around 
you  :  God  certainly  seems  to  be  painfully  laboring  under 
a  heavy  opposition  in  matter  and  in  soul.  "  The  whole 
creation,"  and  the  Creator  with  it,  seems  to  be  "  groan- 
ing and  travailing  in  pain  together  until  now."  Indeed, 
the  sacred  Scriptures  do  not  entirely  deny  such  a  hos- 
tile element,  opposing,  and  as  if  frustrating,  the  divine 
work  itself,  for  the  very  name  Satan  signifies  tJiat  which 
is  against,  —  tJie  opposcr  ;  and  the  New  Testament  rep- 
resents that  the  mastery  over  that  mysterious  adverse 
power  is  to  be  effected  only  ultimately,  and  through 
infinite  sacrifice. 

This  is  in  accordance  with  some  of  the  latest  results 
of  our  modern  thought,  the  conclusions  of  human  phi- 
losophy seeming  to  place  us  substantially  on  the  same 
grounds  with  early  revelation.  All  deliverance,  I  re- 
peat, is  through  suffering  and  blood.  We  at  least  are 
all  born  to  suffer,  and  to  reach,  if  we  reach  at  all, 
through  trial ;    and   this  whether  for  ourselves    or  for 


64  ^      THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

Others.  It  is  the  divine  material  out  of  which  a  new 
creation  may  be  made,  clear  as  silver  or  diamond ;  for 
all  our  evils  may  be  turned  into  self-sacrifice,  and  all 
self-sacrifice  is  victory  and  glory  and  honor. 

Now  in  this  we  —  nay,  the  whole  mass  of  struggling 
souls  —  are  a  wide  image  of  him,  the  Captain  of  all 
salvation,  who  rendered  himself  up  to  death,  purified 
himself  through  the  things  which  he  suffered,  and 
purified  and  saved  others  through  the  same  self-sacri- 
fice and  love.  Take  these  last  scenes:  see  how  the 
Redeemer  emerges  through  them.  The  evangelists, 
as  if  sensible  that  the  revelation  and  power  of  the 
Son  of  God  were  greatest  at  the  end,  and  in  propor- 
tion to  exigencies  and  trial,  here  expand  these  in 
order  that  divine  self-sacrifice  may  be  seen,  and  may 
redeem  the  spirit  of  the  world. 

What  these  sufferings  were  not  can  be  better  told 
than  what  they  were.  To  be  poor,  to  be  unknown, 
to  suffer  much  physical  discomfort,  to  be  humiliated, 
as  we  say,  were  in  themselves  no  great  trials  to  the  Son 
of  God.  If  he  was  ''  from  above,  and  above  all,"  this 
sort  of  trial  would  bring  no  heavy  sacrifice  to  him. 
He  had  at  times  no  place  to  lay  his  head ;  but  he  liked 
to  feel  that  though  "  the  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds 
of  the  air  have  nests,  the  Son  of  man"  had  no  place 
''  to  lay  his  head  "  but  upon  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 
Others  were  fretted  by  hunger,  others  would  have  ad- 
mired Martha  for  attending  to  their  comforts;  but  he 
thought  Mary  had  chosen  the  better  part.     His  meat 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  65 

was  to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  him,  and  to  finish 
his  work. 

Many  will  think  that  his  obscurity  on  the  earth, 
the  neglect  of  the  high,  were  burning  humiliations  for 
the  Son  of  God ;  but  what  to  his  majesty  were  the 
opinions  and  honors  of  a  mass  of  such  beings  as  we 
are?  His  chief  sorrows  were  not  of  this  sort.  The 
sufferings  of  his  crucifixion  were  partly,  no  doubt, 
from  the  keen  pangs  of  a  body  peculiarly  sensitive  to 
physical  pain,  but  chiefly  even  then,  I  think,  from  the 
perfection  of  his  heart.  If  we  would  have  a  compre- 
hensive idea  of  the  things  which  he  suffered,  we  must 
think  of  what  he  was.  If  we  think,  for  example,  of 
his  relations  to  the  Father,  and  think  of  cloud  and 
doubt  hiding  the  Father's  face;  if  we  think  of  his 
relations  to  man,  —  he  their  Saviour,  and  yet  there 
the  surging  sea  of  deviltry,  swaying  and  dashing  and 
hissing  at  his  feet,  these  things  will  give  us  some  idea 
of  the  depth  of  his  sufferings.  Beyond  this  I  enter 
not  into  the  consideration  of  them ;  yet  I  feel  the 
beauty  and  force  of  that  petition  in  the  Greek  liturgy, 
*'  By  thy  2inknow7i  sorrows,  good  Lord,  deliver  us." 

We  now  approach  the  last  scene.  I  will  omit  the 
stupendous  denial  of  Peter  in  the  high  priest's  hall, 
when  he  said  with  cursing  and  oaths  that  he  did  not 
know  the  man.  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  fact  that 
they  all  forsook  him  and  fled,  or  upon  the  scenes  called 
the  trials  of  Christ,  of  which  there  w^ere  certainly  four 
and  perhaps  six,  —  scenes  of  unparalleled  outrage,  in 

5 


66  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

which  the  victim  was  awfully  harassed  and  racked.  I 
must  omit  his  divine  demeanor  through  all  this,  say- 
ing, however,  that  God  so  arranged  that  when  the  Son 
appeared  the  Jew  appeared  at  his  side,  to  test  and 
bring  out  by  an  ideal  cruelty  the  ideal  glory  of  the 
soul  of  Christ.  There  they  stood  together  and  will 
stand,  they  discovering  him  and  he  discovering  them. 

It  seems  to  me  that  God  intended  to  set  forth  this 
greatest  of  transactions  by  the  most  wonderful  methods 
that  could  be  devised.  He  places  before  us  that  head 
on  which  there  are  many  crowns,  covered  with  a  crown 
of  thorns ;  he  shows  us  a  reed  in  the  hand  which  for- 
ever holds  the  sceptre  of  the  world,  —  him  whose  train 
fills  the  temple  of  all  this  earth  coming  forth  in  a  mock 
purple  robe,  and  the  eye  blindfolded  which  saw  God. 

But  look  especially  at  his  patience  and  silence.  The 
apostle  James  seems  particularly  struck  with  his  pa- 
tience, his  fathomless  endurance:  "Ye  have  heard  of 
the  patience  of  Job,  and  have  seen  the  end  of  the 
Lord."  "  He  did  oppose  his  patience  to  their  fury, 
and  armed  himself  to  suffer,  with  a  quietness  of  spirit, 
the  very  rage  and  tyranny  of  theirs."  Hope,  though 
usually  and  singularly  paramount  in  him,  is  absent 
through  these  last  scenes.  It  was  simple  endurance. 
I  remember  but  one  distinct  forward  look  of  hope : 
"  I  will  not  drink  henceforth  of  this  fruit  of  the  vine, 
until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  new  with  you  in  my 
Father's  kingdom." 

Then  his  silence.     His  judges,  Pilate  above  all,  felt 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  67 

this  silence  with  awe.  That  a  man  should  make  no 
effort  for  his  life  filled  them  with  astonishment  and 
fear.  But  he,  knowing  that  words  would  avail  nothing, 
was  silent,  and  left  it  to  his  cross,  to  his  blood,  to  his 
grave,  to  speak. 

When  Pilate  found  he  could  not  save  him  but  by 
some  sacrifice  to  himself,  he  gave  the  fatal  order  for 
the  crucifixion,  the  fatal  command,  "  Ibis  ad  crucem." 
He  is  condemned ;  and  in  a  few  moments  all  is  made 
ready  for  departure  to  the  place  of  death. 

Of  the  way  to  the  cross  we  know  little.  The  Church 
of  the  Middle  Ages  has  well  called  it  the  Via  Dolorosa, 
and  filled  the  w^ay  with  tragic  traditions  all  unknown 
to  us.  But  this  we  know, — that  Jesus  could  not  bear 
his  cross,  as  criminals  were  required  to  do;  probably 
fell  under  it,  and  probably  was  urged  and  scourged 
forward,  but  certainly  could  carry  it  no  longer.  We 
must  remember  that  he  was  weakened  by  suffering  and 
the  terrible  scourging  to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 
I  must  notice  here  that  the  Gospels,  so  far  from  exag- 
gerating, give  the  barest  outlines  of  the  chief  facts. 
They  say  next  to  nothing  about  the  passage  to  Cal- 
vary. Saint  Luke,  however,  does  tell  us  what  we  are 
glad  to  hear,  —  that  amid  all  this  carnival  of  hell,  in 
the  surging  of  that  crowd  of  enemies  or  silent  friends, 
there  were  "  women,  which  also  bewailed  and  lamented 
him." 

Arrived  at  last,  the  cross-beams  are  nailed  together, 
and  while  they  are  lying  on  the  ground  the  victim  is 


6S  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

nailed  to  them.  Then,  ''  Father,  forgive  them ;  they 
know  not  what  they  do."  The  cross  is  raised,  and 
with  a  shock  dropped  into  its  hole  and  firmly  planted. 
There  he  hung,  dying,  from  nine  o'clock  until  three. 
The  crisis  was  "  about  the  ninth  hour,"  when  he  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  "Eli!  Eli!  lama  sabacthani? 
that  is  to  say,  My  God !  My  God !  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me?"  Man  first  forsook  him,  —  "they  all  forsook 
him  and  fled,"  —  but  now,  at  last,  he  is  forsaken  of  God. 
WJiy  hast  thou  forsaken  me?  TJioil  for  whose  love  I 
am  here,  art  thou  gone  too? 

Judge  his  trial  when  that  faith,  that  trust,  which  he 
had  without  measure,  seemed  to  crumble  in  his  bosom. 
He  was  left  alone,  as  if  without  God  or  hope,  and  so 
descended  into  the  dark,  crying  again  with  an  exceed- 
ing loud  voice.  If  that  were  so,  even  while  it  opens 
a  gulf  of  horror  which  we  dare  not  look  down  into, 
do  not  think  that  in  him  the  faith  of  faithfulness  was 
gone,  though  the  glad  and  enjoying  trust  of  the  Son 
of  man  was  gone  for  that  moment.  God  was  still 
"  My  God ;  "  he  was  a  God  looked  to,  appealed  to, 
adjured;  and  though  it  was  a  trial  which  had  gone  so 
deep  that  it  tore  away  the  soul,  its  glad  faith,  its  peace, 
its  hope,  still  it  left  the  heart  in  the  midst  of  the  infinite 
ruin,  true,  clinging  to  God  to  the  last  gasp. 

But  what  a  scene !  There  are  two  great  centres  of 
darkness  in  the  history  of  these  sufferings :  first,  "  My 
soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death;  "  second, 
this,  and  this  above  all,  —  that  cup  which  was  pressed 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  69 

to  his  lips  in  Gethsemane,  and  which  was  so  bitter 
that  he  said,  '*  If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me,"  is  pressed  to  his  lips  again.  Drink,  Son  of  man, 
drink  to  the  dregs;  it  is  death  to  you,  but  it  is  salvation 
to  all. 

The  evangelists  say  that  Nature  suffered  a  revolution, 
that  the  earth  was  dark,  and  the  great  "  veil  of  the 
temple  was  rent  in  twain  from  the  top  to  the  bottom 
[as  if  to  open  the  path  from  sinful  man  to  his  God], 
and  the  earth  did  quake,  and  the  rocks  rent,  and  the 
graves  were  opened."  And  it  surely  ought  to  have 
been  so.  The  spiritual  world  seemed  broken  up ;  why 
not  the  natural?  The  Lamb  of  God  is  dead,  trod  out 
of  the  earth  and  forsaken  of  God.  So  it  seemed.  The 
light  must  darken  in  the  heavens.  Nature  must  cry  out, 
and  the  earth  must  wail  because  oi  him,  as  one  waileth 
for  an  only  son. 

And  now  I  ask,  W/ij/ all  this?  Sin!  sin!  God  was 
behind,  allowing  the  law  of  sorrow  to  do  its  work  of 
deliverance  and  redemption  in  the  bosom  of  the  Son 
of  God,  —  that  law  which  prepares  life  through  death; 
that  law  which  purified  the  highest  through  the  things 
which  he  suffered,  and  through  him  redeemed  all  the 
souls  which  really  behold  him.  And,  oh  joy !  though 
sunk  so  low,  the  height  in  purity  and  power  to  which 
he  rose  was  exactly  correspondent  to  the  depth  to 
which  he  went  down ;  and  when  he  finished  his  great 
cry,  "Eli!"  the  everlasting  crown  was  placed  upon 
his  head,  and  the  redemption  of  the  earth  was  begun, 


70  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

established.     Shall   not   the  death  of  the  Lord   break 
the  power  of  sin  in  us  and  in  all? 

"  Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried  our 
sorrows:  he  was  wounded  for  our  trangressions,  he 
was  bruised  for  our  iniquities:  the  chastisement  of 
our  peace  was  upon  him ;  and  with  his  stripes  we  are 
healed.  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray ;  we  have 
turned  every  one  to  his  own  way ;  and  the  Lord  hath 
laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all." 


VII. 

EASTER. 


He  is  risen;   he  is  7iot  here :  behold  the  place  where  they  laid 
him.  —  Mark  xvi.  i. 


T  TERE  is  the  announcement  of  an  angel  to  simple 
-^  -*•  women.  It  is  singular  (I  do  not  speak  it  in 
praise,  but  merely  as  a  fact),  —  the  prominence  of 
women  in  the  Gospels,  and  their  natural  affinity  to 
Christ  and  Christianity  in  all  ages.  No ;  not  singular, 
but  instructive  and  impressive.  A  woman  washed  his 
feet  with  tears.  A  woman  said  of  him,  *'  Come,  see 
a  man  which  told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  did :  is 
not  this  the  Christ?"  Women  followed  him  and  min- 
istered to  him.  Two  women  were  among  his  closest 
friends.  During  the  last  scene  women  wept  him  and 
also  bewailed  him.  It  is  pleasing  to  think  that  when 
all  else  deserted  him  and  fled,  the  tears  of  women 
gave  some  natural  solace  to  his  heart.  And  we  read 
that  at  the  moment  when  all  was  just  over,  there  were 
women  *'  looking  on  afar  off;  "  and  there  were  others, 
as  Saint  John  states  it,  just  under  the  cross,  —  as  near, 
I  presume,  as   the   soldiers  would    let   them   be;    and 


^2  EASTER. 

in  this  company  (whether  standing  near  or  standing 
off)  were  Mary  Magdalene  and  Mary  the  mother  of 
James,  '^  and  many  other  women  which  came  up  with 
him  unto  Jerusalem."  It  was  quite  a  noticeable  fact. 
And  these  women  kept  near,  it  seems,  after  life  had 
left  him,  and  watched  the  descent  from  the  cross,  and 
watched  all  that  was  done ;  and  when  at  last  Joseph 
took  the  body  to  his  tomb,  two  of  them  followed  and 
v/atched.  And  at  last  '*  Mary  Magdalene  and  Mary 
the  mother  of  Joses  beheld  where  he  was  laid."  And 
then,  I  presume,  they  departed.  But  when  the  Sabbath 
was  past,  these  women,  having  bought  some  sweet  and 
costly  spices  (though  they  were  but  poor),  came  that 
they  might  anoint  him,  and  to  tJiem  the  first  word  of 
the  new  life  came. 

Through  the  week  just  past  we  have  followed  Jesus 
up  to  his  cross  and  his  sepulchre,  and  have  seen  him 
dead  who  was  the  life  of  the  world.  All  things 
seem  to  have  declared  for  wrong  and  for  supreme 
cruelty;  and  holiness  and  love  hung  nailed  to  the 
cross.  It  has  been  ''  the  hour  and  power  of  dark- 
ness." The  crowd  dispersed,  the  priests,  much  pleased, 
went  back  to  the  temple.  The  governor  was  in  his 
palace.  On  yesterday,  which  was  the  Jewish  sabbath, 
the  priests  and  elders  and  people  thronged  the  courts 
of  the  temple ;  the  blood  of  two  hundred  thousand 
lambs  —  the  usual  number  —  was  shed,  incense  rose, 
and  the  grand  and  solemn  worship  of  the  Jews  was 
celebrated.      Jesus    is    dead;    the   real    Paschal    Lamb 


EASTER.  73 

is  sacrificed;  and  a  dusky  figure  —  some  Satanic  Power 
—  has  sat  down  on  the  throne  !  But  —  but  "  very  early 
in  the  morning,  the  first  day  of  the  week,"  certain 
women  *'  came  unto  the  sepulchre  at  the  rising  of  the 
sun ; "  and  some  one  said  unto  them :  *'  Be  not  af- 
frighted :  ye  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  was  cruci- 
fied :  he  is  risen ;  he  is  not  here :  behold  the  place 
where  they  laid  him."  If  the  earth  quaked  at  his 
death,  the  heavens  themselves  should  have  broken 
open   at  that   announcement ! 

This,  then,  is  the  morning  of  the  resurrection.  The 
first  day  of  the  era  of  new  life  for  us  and  for  all 
creatures  has  begun.  Of  this  fact  I  might  ofTer  posi- 
tive and  elaborate  evidence,  attesting  directly  and  in- 
directly and  multitudinously ;  but  it  is  not  necessary. 
I  might  show  also  the  harmony  of  the  event  with  all 
facts,  with  all  truths,  with  all  human  wants.  I  might 
show  you  its  justice,  its  mercy,  its  beauty,  —  that  it 
is  the  desire  and  the  demand  of  the  groaning  world. 
I  might  show  its  power.  Nay,  far  more  than  that. 
Look  at  the  contrary :  if  Christ  is  not  risen,  —  if  he 
is  gone,  sunk ;  if  his  last  wail  is  forever  true,  that  God 
has  forsaken  him,  —  then,  I  say,  that  fact  has  added 
a  weight  against  God,  against  the  character,  against 
the  very  being  of  God,  —  has  added  somewhat  against 
him  which  is  as  deep  as  the  earth  and  wide  as  the 
sea !  But  the  news  is  that  Christ  is  risen !  He  is  not 
holden  of  death !  The  enigmas  of  Providence  and 
the  world  —  the  central  darkness  —  is  lit  up  as  by  light- 


74  EASTER. 

nings.  The  news  is  that  injustice  and  wickedness 
are  shown  to  be  but  for  a  moment,  and  that  the  right 
shall  have  dominion  in  the  morning!  The  news  is 
that  to  those  who  have  the  spirit  of  Christ  there  are 
properly  no  more  such  things  as  evil  and  death. 
Blessed  are  they,  for  they  shall  have  part  in  his 
resurrection,  and  upon  them  no  death  shall  have 
power. 

If  this  is  true,  was  there  ever  heard  such  news? 
For  if  Christ  live  forevermore,  it  is  possible,  probable, 
pledged  indeed,  that  we  shall  live  forevermore.  He 
is  but  "the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept."  Just  as 
the  Jews  plucked  the  first  delicate  corn  and  grass  and 
fruits  and  carried  them  up  to  the  Lord,  so  he  was 
carried  up  in  this  springtime  of  Easter,  as  a  sign 
and  pledge  of  the  great  harvest  of  the  dead  coming 
after. 

If  Christ  be  not  risen,  every  dead  body  preaches 
annihilation;  or,  at  least,  a  deep  shadow  rests  upon 
the  grave.  Spite  of  all  the  little  proofs,  little  hopes 
of  men,  **  it  still  remains  true  that  there  is  but  little 
hope,  —  that  the  last  known  and  recorded  thing  of 
the  strongest  man  is  his  weakness,  of  the  wisest  man 
is  the  failure  of  his  powers,  of  the  best  man  that  he 
has  suffered  the  punishment  of  sin."  Science  would 
leave  the  world  as  it  was  left  when  Christ  said,  **  Eli ! 
Eli!  lama  sabacthani  ?  "  But  now  we  see  Christ  risen, 
and  the  great  things  of  hope  have  become  the  great 
things  of  fact,  of  experience.     **  God  hath  both  raised 


EASTER.  75 

up  the  Lord,  and  will  also  raise  us  up  by  his  own 
power." 

It  is  very  easy  to  talk  of  the  resurrection  —  of  the 
boundless  relief  of  the  resurrection  —  in  some  half- 
flippant  way.  Do  I  feel  it?  Do  I  know — have  I  ever 
reflected  —  what  the  state  of  man  is  without  Christ 
raised;  v/ithout  the  hopes  of  this  morning?  All  our 
souls,  their  highest  and  their  natural  instincts,  yearn 
for  and  demand  continuance.  The  whole  race  demands 
a  rising  again.  But  without  Christ  risen  there  is  not 
only  no  certainty  of  immortality  for  us,  but  many 
presumptions  against  it.  Christ  perished,  unraised,  un- 
vindicated,  with  the  wail  of  desertion  on  his  lips,  — 
that  does  not  leave  things  as  he  found  them ;  that  dark- 
ens the  old  hope,  darkens  God,  and  leaves  us  to  the  doc- 
trine of  death.  We  will  die  as  the  beasts ;  and  why 
not?  We  are  creatures  like  the  insects,  —  here  we  are 
to-day,  to-morrow  passed  as  a  mist, — without  Christ. 
I  know  not  how  long  man  has  been  upon  the  earth, 
but  long  enough  for  us  to  know  that  the  generations 
are  but  shadows.  Oh,  our  nothingness  !  Take  the  town 
we  live  in.  Though  it  is  only  of  yesterday,  yet  it  seems 
very  old  and  sad  when  we  think  of  the  people  who 
have  passed  through  it,  —  these  very  streets  occupied 
and  emptied  so  many  times.     We  are  dream-people. 

Yearning  for  life,  but  sinking  in  death,  what  hope  is 
there?  As  the  world  goes  on,  the  hope  for  us  does  not 
increase !  The  race  advances,  but  the  hope  for  each 
man  does  not  advance.     After  all  that  modern  thought 


je  EASTER. 

and  discovery  have  reached,  the  light  around  the  grave 
thickens.  Among  our  discoveries  we  cannot  discover 
immortaHty.  "  The  vulture's  eye  hath  not  seen  It." 
So,  in  this  dark  and  gloom  of  Nature,  we  cry  like  chil- 
dren in  the  night;  we  cry  aloud,  ''  Is  there  any  hope?  " 
What  answer?  Listen!  Nothing  but  silence.  That 
silence  is  our  answer.  Like  a  ship  on  fire  and  sinking 
at  sea,  we  glance  for  aid  from  horizon  to  horizon ;  but 
over  and  through  this  frightful  waste  no  help,  no  man, 
no  God  appears,  and  we  are  about  dumbly  to  sink,  each 
in  his  turn,  like  lead  into  the  waters.  There  is  no  hope ; 
it  is  all  guess.  Such  is  the  state  of  facts  without  the 
Easter  morning.  I  repeat,  then,  that  there  never  was 
such  news  as  the  news  of  to-day !  The  Captain,  the 
Precursor,  has  gone  through !  He  has  shown  us  the 
path  of  life;  and  the  redeemed  race,  dying  with  him, 
will  forever  live  with  him. 

I  wish  I  knew  how  to  speak  about  such  a  fact.  Only 
a  few  of  us  are  real  and  deep  believers.  If  we  did  be- 
lieve we  would  rejoice,  and  our  miserable  lives  would 
be  raised  up  at  once.  If  we  did  believe,  our  feeble, 
failing  virtue,  always  needing  fresh  strength,  would  find 
it  here.  Our  cares  and  sorrows,  always  needing  fresh 
consolations,  would  find  them  here.  Why  is  it  that, 
standing  in  such  awful  need  of  this  fact,  we  do  not  grasp 
it,  and  give  to  ourselves  some  joy  on  earth?  Why? 
The  secret  reason  is  that  we  know  that,  to  rise  as  Christ 
did,  we  must,  like  him,  ''  first  die  to  sin  and  live  to 
righteousness."      It    was    the    heavenly   and    powerful 


EASTER.  77 

Spirit  of  Christ  —  *' the  Hfe  to  righteousness" — which 
raised  him  up ;  it  was  by  and  through  the  Eternal  Spirit 
that  was  in  him,  which  was  too  strong  for  death,  as  the 
apostle  says;  and  it  is  by  sharing  in  the  same  spirit 
that  we  also  shall  rise.  This  we  do  not  seem  to  know. 
Nor  do  we  know  the  reverse,  —  that  the  man  who  does 
not  share  in  the  spirit  of  Christ  cannot  share  the  resur- 
rection of  life,  for  one  follows  the  other.  The  resurrec- 
tion morning,  then,  can  only  be  a  joy  to  those  who  have 
at  least  the  beginnings  of  Christ's  spirit  in  them,  — 
**  Christ  formed  in  them  the  hope  of  glory."  There 
must  be  first  a  resurrection  of  real  life  in  the  human 
heart  before,  and  in  order  to,  the  resurrection  of  the 
body. 

But  we  don't  think  enough  of  this  resurrection  of  our 
hearts ;  we  don't  think  much  of  the  passing  from  evil 
to  good,  from  death  to  life,  in  the  spirit  and  at  this 
moment;  we  don't  think  enough  of  the  triumph  of  a 
good  thought  and  feeling  over  an  evil,  —  to  repress 
hatred  by  forgiveness,  —  and  that  our  hearts,  like  the 
dissolving  lights,  should  pass  from  pictures  of  earth  to 
those  of  heaven,  and  all  that  is  small  give  place  to  that 
which  is  noble;  but  we  think  the  resurrection  of  the 
body  a  great  matter.  We  say,  "Oh  yes;  the  great 
resurrection !  " 

We  mistake.  The  greatness  is  in  the  change  of  the 
spirit.  It  is  possible,  I  think  probable,  perhaps  neces- 
sary, that  the  pure  spirit  of  a  man,  when  once  formed 
over  into  the  likeness  of  Christ,  will,  in  its  long  history 


78  EASTER. 

to  come  (for  we  believe  that  it  grows),  take  to  itself  a 
thousand  successive  or  numberless  bodies,  —  always,  in 
a  sense,  the  same  body,  as  the  spirit  is  always  the  same 
spirit,  —  but  each  body  in  its  details  passing  away,  as 
the  spirit  becomes  ready  for  a  higher  form  and  needs  it. 
So  that  the  spirit  in  us,  once  raised,  —  that  is,  come  out 
from  the  death  of  sin  now  and  here,  —  this  is  tliat  first 
rcsitrrcctioUy  compared  with  which  all  bodily  resurrec- 
tions are  secondary,  and  will  follow  as  a  matter  of  course 
whenever  the  gradual  enlargement  of  the  soul  needs 
them. 

I  say,  then,  that  every  good  affection  felt  in  the  heart, 
every  good  will,  every  confiding  feeling  towards  the 
Redeemer  of  our  spirits,  is  the  beginning  in  us  of  the 
noblest  resurrection.  We  must,  then,  begin  to  live  in 
our  hearts,  and  then  as  certainly  as  Christ  lives  we  shall 
live  also :   death  is  utterly  abolished. 

Don't  think  lightly  of  the  heart.  Learn  to  estimate 
the  value  of  it  by  this,  —  that  it  is  the  beginning  and 
fountain  of  all  resurrections.  Deny,  then,  and  reject 
the  wrongs  of  your  heart,  for  that  is  the  resurrection  of 
death,  and  turn  to  those  opposite  feelings  which  in  fact 
are  the  resurrection  feelings  of  life,  which  are  so  deep 
in  vitality  and  value  that  they  must  bloom  out  into 
eternal  life. 

The  truth  I  teach  is :  Your  body  must  go  with  your 
spirit;  if  the  one  is  alive,  the  other  will  be  alive  also. 
To  you,  then,  who  wish  to  trust  in  the  divine  mercy, 
and  would  begin  at  this  moment  to  be  what  your  heart 


EASTER.  79 

tells  you  you  ought  to  be,  —  rejoice  !  Your  resurrection 
begins  now,  and  the  resurrection  of  the  body  awaits 
you.  This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made.  The  cry 
of  joy  is  in  the  tabernacles  of  the  righteous.  Christ 
is  risen. 


VIII. 

THE    ASCENSION. 

And  it  ca7}te  to  pass,  while  he  blessed  them,  he  was  parted  from 
the7n,  and  carried  icp  into  heaven,  —  Luke  xxiv.  51. 

T  T  /"E  have  commemorated  the  resurrection  of  Christ. 
^  ^  We  now  commemorate  the  ascension  of  Christ. 
It  is  well  perhaps,  as  a  matter  of  custom,  to  review 
annually  these  great  and  interesting  facts ;  and  what  is 
wanting  in  freshness  in  such  subjects  should  be  sup- 
plied by  the  permanent  importance  they  must  ever 
possess  to  all  mankind. 

This  event  did  not  take  place  until  forty  days  after 
the  resurrection  and  ten  days  before  the  Pentecost. 
It  seems  at  first  a  very  strange  fact  that  the  risen  Lord 
should  remain  for  that  period  of  time  among  men, — 
among  them  and  yet  not  of  them.  Some  have  sup- 
posed that  his  body  was  passing  in  that  time  through 
*'  a  slow  and  physical  purification  to  be  meet  for  ascend- 
ing; "  but  such  reasons  are  rather  curious  than  prob- 
able. Still,  there  were  good  reasons  for  it.  It  was  of 
the  utmost  importance,  for  instance,  thoroughly  to  con- 
vince and  instruct  the  minds  of  those  who  were  to  be 
the  founders  of  the  Church.  His  appearance  among 
them  might  have  seemed  a  delusion  if  it  had  occurred 


THE  ASCENSION.  8 1 

only  in  one  day  or  a  few  days.  It  might  then  have 
come  to  be  ranked  with  many  wonderful  stories  —  as 
to  the  seeing  of  spirits.  But  to  see  him  through  so 
long  a  time  as  forty  days  must  have  given  his  followers 
a  sort  of  certainty  and  familiarity  with  the  fact  which 
nothing  could  shake.  This  is  intimated  by  Saint  Luke : 
'*  He  showed  himself  alive  after  his  passion  by  many 
infallible  proofs,  being  seen  of  them  forty  days."  Noth- 
ing could  have  so  assuring  an  effect  as  time.  Besides, 
he  spent  this  time  in  opening  their  understandings  and 
speaking  to  them  of  the  things  pertaining  to  the  king- 
dom of  God.  He  taught  them  the  ancient  prophecies 
as  to  himself,  beginning  at  Moses  and  all  the  prophets ; 
he  showed  them  the  meaning  of  his  mission  on  earth,  — 
that  Christ  ought  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and 
then  to  enter  into  his  glory.  More  than  this :  he  im- 
bued them  with  the  spirit  of  his  religion.  One  of  the 
reasons  that  they  so  slowly  believed  his  resurrection 
(for  he  had  clearly  told  them  he  would  rise)  was  that 
they  could  not  believe  the  Messiah  could  have  such  a 
poor,  quiet,  unimposing  resurrection.  Their  idea  of  the 
resurrection  was  that  it  was  to  be  a  magnificent  jubi- 
lee, at  which  the  Messiah  should  call  up  the  venerated 
forefathers  of  their  race,  and  the  splendors  of  his  king- 
dom begin.     Such  a  notion  was  not  easily  uprooted. 

Again:  he  informed  them  during  this  time  of  the 
future  and  their  own  conduct  in  it.  I  think  we  have 
very  little  impression  in  general  of  the  amount  of  our 
Lord's  teachings  when  on  earth,  and  especially  little, 

6 


82  THE  ASCENSION. 

I  think,  do  we  know  of  all  that  he  said  and  did  during 
these  forty  days.  ''  There  are  also,"  says  John,  *'  many 
other  things  which  Jesus  did,  the  which,  if  they  should 
be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that  even  the  world 
itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be 
written." 

Thus,  having  proved  all  things  and  ordered  all  things, 
he  was  ready  to  ascend.  He  had  corrected  and  en- 
lightened their  understandings;  he  had  roused  their 
affections ;  he  had  solaced  their  hearts,  infusing  courage 
and  hope;  he  had  prepared  for  the  important  future; 
and  so  he  was  ready,  and  then  only  ready,  to  ascend. 

He,  being  with  the  disciples  in  some  private  place  in 
Jerusalem,  first  laid  a  strict  and  peculiar  charge  upon 
them,  —  that  they  should  not  depart  from  that  city 
until  there  they  received  the  full  effusion  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Having  done  this,  he  led  out  the  company  to 
Mount  Ohvet,  a  short  distance  from  Jerusalem.  It  was 
at  the  base  of  this  mountain  that  the  garden  of  Geth- 
semane  lay,  in  which  he  had  lately  endured  his  suffer- 
ings ;  there  he  had  been  apprehended  as  a  malefactor, 
and  there,  or  on  the  elevated  ground  just  above,  he  was 
now  to  be  exalted  to  heaven  as  a  Prince  and  King. 

On  the  top  of  that  mount,  below  and  near  which  lay 
the  city  and  temple,  surrounded  by  a  company,  perhaps 
a  few  and  perhaps  as  many  as  five  hundred,  he  gave 
his  parting  commands,  and  lifting  up  over  them  those 
hands  which  were  never  raised  save  in  benediction, 
he  for  the  last   time    solemnly  blessed   them.     "  And 


THE  ASCENSION.  83 

it  came  to  pass,  while  he  blessed  them,  he  was  parted 
from  them,  and  carried  up  into  heaven." 

As  "he  blessed  them,  he  was  parted  from  them." 
If  this  were  a  mere  poetic  conception,  nothing  could 
be  conceived  more  beautifully.  In  what  fine  harmony 
is  it  with  all  his  life !  "  On  earth  peace,  good-will  to 
men,"  was  the  first  utterance  spoken  of  him;  from 
his  childhood  the  very  atmosphere  about  him  seemed  a 
perpetual  and  tender  benediction ;  and  his  last  gesture, 
the  last  sound  from  his  sacred   lips,  was  still  blessing. 

As  one  of  the  objects  of  this  his  public  ascent  was 
to  convince,  it  was  no  doubt  done  in  the  clearest 
manner.  It  seems  probable  that  he  was  slowly  and 
in  a  stately  manner  wafted  from  them  while  the  last 
words  of  his  blessing  were  falling  from  his  lips.  So, 
gradually,  he  rose  until  a  cloud  above  ''  received  him 
out  of  their  sight.  And  while  they  looked  steadfastly 
toward  heaven  as  he  went  up,  behold,  two  men  stood 
by  them  in  white  apparel,  which  also  said,  Ye  men  of 
Galilee,  why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven?  this  same 
Jesus  which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall 
so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into 
heaven." 

Their  attention  turned  in  this  touching  manner  from 
the  sorrow  of  parting  to  the  joy  of  an  expected  meeting 
and  permanent  reunion  with  the  beloved  Master,  the 
company  gradually  left  the  spot,  their  hearts  impressed 
at  once  with  the  deepest  sorrow  and  the  most  exulting 
hopes. 


84  THE  ASCENSION. 

Thus  was  finished  the  earthly  career  of  Jesus  Christ 
the  Son  of  God,  *'  whom  the  heaven  must  receive  until 
the  times  of  restitution  of  all  things."  **  Lift  up  your 
heads,  O  ye  gates;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting 
doors;    and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 

And  now  let  me  briefly  remind  you  of  some  of  those 
lessons  which  this  event  teaches.  In  the  first  instance, 
if,  as  I  endeavored  to  prove  to  you,  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  gives  solid  evidence  of  two  great  facts,  namely, 
the  immortality  of  man,  and  the  final  triumph  of  holi- 
ness and  right,  then  the  ascension  is  in  the  highest 
degree  the  completion  of  that  evidence ;  for  in  this  we 
see  that  the  power  of  death  was  not  only  overcome, 
but  overcome  permanently;  and  that  goodness  was 
rewarded  in  the  person  of  Christ,  not  only  by  his 
freedom  from  death,  but  also  by  his  exaltation  to 
glory. 

We  must  view  Christ  as  the  representative  in  a  sense 
of  the  whole  race,  and  the  perfect  image  of  those  who 
follow  his  steps.  Every  good  man  in  the  sufferings 
of  life  and  in  the  penalty  of  death  does  partake  with 
Christ,  in  some  degree,  of  that  curse  which  he  bore 
for  all ;  and  in  like  manner  shall  those  who  are  truly 
one  with  him,  grafted  in  by  a  living  faith,  rise  up  from 
death,  for  it  is  impossible  that  they  should  now  be 
holden  by  it.  They  too,  I  say,  must  in  like  manner 
and  by  the  same  spirit  emerge  from  the  grave  and  the 
gate  of  death ;  and  not  only  that,  but,  still  joined  and 
made   one   with    him    in    his   wonderful    destiny,   must 


THE  ASCENSION.  85 

pass,  as  he  passed,  into  the  highest  place,  to  meet 
inconceivable  rewards  and  to  penetrate  into  an  incon- 
ceivable glory. 

With  these  inducements  would  that,  like  him,  we 
could  tread  firmly  in  the  steps  of  duty,  running  "with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us,  looking  unto 
Jesus,  who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  en- 
dured the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is  set  down 
at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God." 

Again,  consider  the  fact  that  he  went  into  that 
higher  state  with  a  human  body.  This  wonderful  fact, 
like  most  others  in  the  New  Testament,  was  fore- 
shadowed by  something  of  a  similar  nature.  ''  Enoch 
was  translated  that  he  should  not  see  death,"  Elijah 
was  swept  away  in  what  seemed  a  chariot  of  fire,  but 
in  both  these  instances  there  is  an  air  of  distance  and 
remoteness  which  makes  them  seem  unreal. 

It  appears  to  me  that  if  even  the  Son  of  God,  who 
is  eminently  a  spirit,  is  represented  as  existing  really 
embodied  in  the  heavenly  state,  —  if  it  was  the  intention 
to  impress  this  most  forcibly  by  taking  him  away  in 
that  form  before  our  eyes,  —  then  we  ought  to  shape 
our  ideas  of  the  future  state  so  as  to  correspond  with 
this.  Must  not  that  be  a  state,  spiritualized  indeed, 
but  still  one  in  which  we  are  to  appear  in  real  bodies, 
and  as  inhabitants  of  a  real  external  world?  I  wonder 
much  that  any  one  should  be  able  to  think  the  con- 
trary. When  we  see  him,  says  the  apostle,  we  shall 
be   like  him;   and  one  point  of  that  likeness  is  to   be 


S6  THE  ASCENSION. 

the  possession  of  an  entire  humanity  in  body  as  well 
as   spirit. 

You  can  realize  then,  if  you  will,  from  this  ascent 
of  the  body  of  him  who  is  our  Forerunner,  the  same 
thing  which  shall  actually  take  place  in  respect  to  us, 
when  all  those  who  sleep  in  the  dust  of  the  earth  shall 
hear  his  voice  and  arise,  and  shall  enter  upon  a  state 
of  vivid  realities,  bodily  as  well  as  spiritual. 

Think  now  how  delightful  a  fact  this  is,  —  that  Christ 
has  ascended  in  the  human  form.  What  a  dignity  does 
it  lend  to  every  part  of  our  humanity,  that  in  a  human 
body  Christ  sits  at  the  head  of  all  power,  —  that  all 
intelligent  beings,  however  high,  shall  associate  with 
that  form,  and  with  all  who  wear  it,  an  interest,  an 
attraction,  of  the  most  peculiar  character;  so  that  all 
who  appear  in  it  shall  draw  forth  at  once  to  themselves 
the  love  and  joy  of  all  other  creatures !  Think,  too, 
what  high  capacities  will  belong  to  it  when  it  shall  be 
a  temple  fit  for  the  Lord,  the  King,  to  dwell  in !  Think 
of  what  enjoyments  it  must  be  susceptible  when  it 
shall  be  the  very  likeness  of  him  who  for  his  sufferings 
is  in  that  very  form  reaping  the  highest  joys !  What 
a  triumph  over  the  thought  of  death  does  this  give 
the  believer!  Death  to  him  shall  destroy  nothing, 
but  shall  recreate  everything  in  a  higher  form.  If 
our  faith  had  force,  we  should  look  through  the  sorrow, 
the  gloom,  the  destruction  of  death,  as  through  a  short 
vista  opening  on  a  scene  of  which  this  is  but  the  image, 
that   the  reality;    this  as   if  the   shadow  of  the  sweet 


THE  ASCENSION,  8/ 

heavens  when  reflected  in  dim  and  troubled  water, — 
that,  those  heavens  themselves  in  their  solid,  eternal 
beauty  and  peace. 

In  asserting  the  likeness  of  the  after-glory  of  the 
believer  to  that  of  Christ,  of  course  I  have  not  intended 
to  make  the  degree  of  this  glory  similar.  Of  him  it 
is  said  that  ascending  he  went  higher  than  the  heav- 
ens, far  above  all  of  them,  into  the  holiest,  into  the 
magnificent  or  most  excellent  glory,  and  there  sat 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  Majesty,  from  thence  ex- 
pecting or  waiting  until  all  enemies  shall  be  put  under 
his  feet. 

Let  us  reflect  for  a  moment  on  this  his  peculiar 
glory.  Sitting  down  at  the  right  hand  of  God  is  of 
course  a  figure  by  which  we  are  to  understand  taking 
the  place  of  power  and  dignity,  and  particularly  the 
place  of  rule  or  administration  as  the  chief  officer  of 
a  kingdom,  into  whose  hands  all  afl"airs  are  committed. 
From  that  ascension-day  all  things  were  put  in  sub- 
jection to  him,  —  the  ministry  of  angels,  of  men,  and 
of  events.  "■  In  him  all  fulness  dwells."  "  The  gov- 
ernment" is  fully  ''upon  his  shoulder."  ''There  was 
given  him  dominion,  and  glory,  and  a  kingdom,  that 
all  people,  nations,  and  languages  should  serve  him." 

Christ  there  in  the  seat  of  power,  his  eye  beholding, 
his  hand  controlling  all  events,  —  think  of  it.  Nay,  it 
is  almost  allowable  to  picture  him  to  the  eye,  for  there 
is  nothing  vague  or  inconceivable  now  as  to  him  who 
rules:    it   is    Christ,  he   who   was    born    in   Bethlehem 


88  THE  ASCENSION. 

of  Judea  and  lived  here  under  this  sun  and  moon  a 
few  hundred  years  ago.  He  is  the  Ruler.  You  cannot 
be  in  danger  of  thinking  it  too  real.  He  is  there  to 
whose  wisdom  as  a  ruler,  to  whose  mild  justice  as  a 
judge,  to  whose  tenderness  as  a  guardian  and  pro- 
tector we  may  all  commit  ourselves  in  every  event  of 
life  with  the  deepest  assurance  and  peace. 

It  is  a  great  thought  that  Jesus  Christ  is  now  actually 
our  ruler,  disposing  everything  that  concerns  us ;  and 
whatever  event  happens  to  us,  whether  it  seem  good 
or  ill,  —  a  deep  and  bitter  grief,  or  prosperity,  —  let 
us  always  remember  that  that  hand,  last  seen  in 
benediction,  has  ordered  it,  to  bring  us  home  to 
himself. 

The  Guide  of  us  men  has  not  left  us  because  he 
has  gone  away.  Indeed  it  seems,  I  know  not  for  what 
reason,  that  one  of  the  great  objects  of  his  leaving 
the  earth  and  ascending  was  that  the  power  of  the 
Spirit,  and  with  it  all  good  gifts,  might  more  effectually 
be  granted  to  us.  "  It  is  expedient,"  he  says,  with 
mournful  tenderness  accounting  to  his  disciples  for 
his  absence,  — "  it  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go 
away;  for  if  I  go  not  away,  the  Comforter  will  not 
come  unto  you ;  but  if  I  depart,  I  will  send  him 
unto  you." 

I  say  it  was  his  purpose  in  ascending  up  on  high 
to  obtain  gifts  for  men,  which  he  will  dispense  the 
more  liberally  the  more  freely  they  are  sought.  Now, 
*'  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name,  that  will  I  do." 


THE  ASCENSION.  89 

In  the  last  place,  in  view  of  Christ's  ascension  we 
are  bound  to  remember  his  reappearance, — "Whom 
the  heaven  must  receive  until  the  times  of  restitution 
of  all  things."  He  "  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as 
ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven."  "  In  like  manner," 
which  I  understand  literally.  He  has  descended  in 
various  forms  since  his  departure:  in  the  power  of 
his  spirit  and  in  the  power  of  his  providence,  in  the 
consolation  of  his  church  and  in  the  overthrow  of  its 
enemies;  but  he  is  yet,  it  would  seem,  to  reappear  in 
literal  verity.  He  "  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye 
have  seen  him  go  into  heaven."  "  Every  eye  shall  see 
him."  He  ascended  in  the  presence  of  only  a  few 
friends,  whose  testimony  we  believe ;  he  will  come 
again  in  grand  publicity.  "  As  the  lightning  cometh 
out  of  the  east,  and  shineth  even  unto  the  west,  so 
shall  also  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  man  be." 

To  that  point  we  are  bound  to  look  forward.  It 
is  to  come.  He  shall  be  seen  in  the  clouds  of  heaven, 
and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him.  And  what  shall 
the  purpose  be  of  that  grand  visit?  Why  comes  he 
in  this  power  and  great  glory?  He  has  one  purpose 
before  him :  he  will  come  to  sit  upon  the  throne  of 
his  glory,  and  to  render  to  all  the  recompense  of 
reward ;  to  them  who  have  done  wickedly,  "  shame 
and  everlasting  contempt ;  "  to  them  who  have  worked 
righteousness,  "  glory  and  honor  and  immortality." 

To  that  reappearance,  which  in  some  sense  certainly 
every  eye  shall   see,  let  us   all   look,  and  for  that  day 


90  THE   ASCENSION. 

of  the  Lord  make  ready.  Whatever  it  may  be  for 
others,  to  us  let  it  be,  weak,  struggling,  unworthy  as 
we  are,  joy  through  eternity.  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of 
my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you." 
"  Ye  are  they  which  have  continued  with  me  in  my 
temptations;  and  I  appoint  unto  you  a  kingdom,  even 
as  my  Father  hath  appointed  unto  me." 


IX. 

WHITSUNDAY. 

If  I  depart^  I  will  send  him  wito  you.  And  when  he  is  come,  he 
will  reprove  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  aftd  of 
Judgfnent :  of  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on  fne;  of  right eous- 
tiess,  because  I  go  to  my  Father,  and  ye  see  vie  no  more  j  of 
judg77tent,  because  the  prince  of  this  world  is  judged. — 
John  xvi.  7-1 1. 

/^^ONSIDER    this:     a    poor    man    and    young,   sur- 

^-^     rounded  by  a  few  fishermen  and  the  Hke,  about 

to  suffer  as  a  malefactor,  speaking  of  the  Sacred  Spirit, 

of  that  which   Hes   below  and    creates   the   life   of  the 

soul,  as  the    god   of  the   air  would    speak   of  sending 

his  winds,  or  the   sun-god   of  sending   his   mysterious 

light;  speaking  of  this  overshadowing  essence  which 

"  Dove-like,  sit'st  brooding  on  the  vast  abyss, 
And  mak'st  it  pregnant,"  — 

of  this,  as  directing  it,  despatching  it  from  him,  and 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  revealing  and  exalting  him, 
illuminating  his  face  to  the  world,  and  circling  it 
with  a  halo  of  unearthly  lights.  With  no  strain,  or 
consciousness  of  anything  unusual,  he  puts  himself 
up  as  the  director  of  the  Sacred  Spirit,  and  describes 
it  as  gathering  around  him  with  all  its  amplitudes 
of  power  and  light,  to  subserve  and  to  illustrate 
him. 


92  WHITSUNDA  V. 

Think  of  that,  and  tell  me  whether  any  alternative 
is  left  us  but  to  say,  as  the  Jews  did,  **  This  man  hath 
a  devil  and  is  mad,"  or  to  say,  "  Truly  this  is  the  Son 
of  God."  Just  think  of  it  for  yourselves,  putting  any 
meaning  on  it  you  choose. 

''  If  I  depart,  I  will  send  the  Comforter  unto  you." 
And  now,  its  offices.  When  this  awful  agent  should 
come,  it  was  to  do  three  things :  "  He  will  reprove  the 
world  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment;  " 
that  is,  show  clearly  the  fact  of  sin,  of  righteousness, 
and  of  judgment. 

I  dare  not  change  the  order  of  these  divine  words 
of  Jesus,  but  the  three  great  works  of  the  Spirit  will 
be  placed  in  a  more  natural  gradation  for  our  thoughts 
if  we  view  the  one  here  put  second  as  the  first:  "He 
will  reprove  the  world  of  righteousness,,  because  I  go  to 
my  Father,  and  ye  see  me  no  more." 

While  Christ  himself  was  in  the  world  he  was  the 
righteous  light  of  the  world.  Since  his  face  is  removed 
from  our  eyes,  and  his  words  from  our  ears,  the  vision 
and  the  hearing  of  the  heart  must  be  opened,  that, 
we  may  see  him  who  is  now  invisible ;  that  the  soul 
once  impressed  through  the  aid  of  the  senses,  now 
made  susceptible,  vitalized,  by  the  new  Enlightener, 
may  commune  face  to  face  with  spiritual  things.  Thus 
the  first  office  of  the  Comforter  was  to  ''  reprove  the 
world  of  righteousness."  Because  the  Holy  One  was 
to  be  removed  from  our  eyes,  its  first  office  was  to 
stand  through  all  time  as  a  substitute  for  the   senses. 


WHITSUNDA  Y.  93 

as  a  higher  sense  through  which  \vc  may  behold  and 
touch  the  glory  of  Christ  and  of  all  his  truth.  Nay, 
not  only  thus  to  continue  the  presence  of  the  divine 
in  the  world,  but  to  enlarge  its  front,  and  to  give  us  a 
new  and  more  inward  possession  of  it, — to  anoint  the 
eyes  to  see  where  the  light  of  suns  has  never  penetrated. 

We  must  observe  how  slowly  were  trained  the  dis- 
ciples so  long  as  Christ  was  with  them, —  how  gradually 
were  moulded  even  those  chosen  friends  and  apostles 
who  were  constantly  about  his  person,  —  how  ignorant 
and  material  and  unpurified  and  Jewish  they  were  to 
the  last !  But  when  with  the  signs  of  fire  and  with 
the  rushing  of  the  wind  the  Enlightener  came,  these 
very  men  stood  up  filled  with  the  new  wine  of  life, 
their  spirits  broadened,  elate  with  grand  ideas,  em- 
boldened, set  on  fire,  so  that  common  men  —  as  if 
God  were  making  the  very  stones  to  cry  out  —  from 
that  moment  moved  upon  the  world,  as  the  Spirit 
within  them  had  once  moved  upon  the  face  of  chaos, 
with  a  power  which  pervaded,  disturbed,  but  divinely 
warmed  and  divinely  reconstructed  life. 

So  you  see  what  mean  the  beautiful  words,  "  When 
the  Comforter  is  come,  he  will  show  the  world  clearly 
of  righteousness,  because  I  go  to  my  Father,  and  ye 
see  me  no  more."  This  we  have  seen  to  become  a 
fact  in  the  history  of  the  world,  account  for  it  as  we 
may.  There  are  many  things  about  this  divine  Pente- 
cost for  which  it  would  be  presumptuous  in  any  man 
to  attempt  to  account.     What  are  all  the  reasons  which 


94  WHITSUNDA  V. 

delayed  the  coming  of  this  Spirit  until  the  body  of 
Christ  was  removed,  who  can  say?  If  our  intelligence 
could  see  everything  in  the  relations  of  the  first  great 
Spirit  to  our  spirits  and  to  men  as  a  race,  our  thoughts 
would  be  as  deep  and  wide  as  God's.  Some  things 
we  can  say,  however.  It  was  necessary  for  the  humilia- 
tion of  Christ  that  he  should  fulfil  his  course  stripped 
to  so  great  an  extent  of  light  and  power.  Again,  in 
its  operations,  this  Spirit,  like  all  other  power,  observes 
many  conditions,  acting  only  according  to  their  con- 
sent. The  bodily  presence  of  Christ  as  an  actual  man, 
though  vital  as  a  remembrance,  was  yet,  in  spite  of  all 
miracles,  an  obstacle  to  faith,  a  constant  temptation 
to  doubt  and   to  material  views. 

There  is  a  far  greater  dififtculty,  but  it  is  common 
to  natural  religion,  and  appears  everywhere  in  the 
world  and  in  the  history  of  men;  namely,  that,  grant- 
ing the  existence  of  gracious  influences,  they  should 
so  limit  themselves;  that  seeing,  as  we  do,  at  Pente- 
cost and  at  other  epochs  in  the  ordinary  history  of 
the  world  the  spirit  of  man  rising  as  the  surface  of 
a  flood  from  the  heaving  of  the  oceanic  depths,  why 
the  advance  and  recession  of  this  divine  good?  Why 
this  vast  pledging  of  itself  to  hope,  only  to  withdraw? 
Why,  when  commissioned  to  reprove  the  world  of 
righteousness,  to  discover  that  aspect  which  illuminates 
and  recreates  spirits, — why  to  come  in  like  a  tidal  wave 
and  then  retire,  leaving  us  down  at  the  ordinary  rate 
of  our  poor  existence? 


WHITS UNDA  V.  95 

I  know,  of  course,  that  our  own  depraved  wills  shut 
God  out;  I  know  that  there  are  reasons  of  moral 
discipline  in  this  slowly  wrought  historical  progress; 
I  know  also  that  there  may  be  natural  as  there  cer- 
tainly are  spiritual  laws  which  control  here;  but  still, 
**  How  long,  O  Lord !  "  is  the  natural  cry  of  the  heart 
which  feels  that  it  faints,  that  the  race  itself  withers, 
without  God.  **  Creation  itself  groaneth,"  waiting  for 
the  '*  manifestation  of  the  Sons  of  God."  Reprove, 
O  Comforter,  reprove  the  world  of  righteousness,  be- 
cause the  Holy  One  has  left  us,  and  has  gone  to  the 
Father,  and  we  see  him  no  more ;  because  it  is  fit 
that  all  creatures  should  see  him,  that  we  above  all, 
we  erring  and  lost  men,  should  know  the  expressed 
and  redeeming  God. 

''  When  the  Comforter  is  come,  he  will  reprove  the 
world  o(  S171  and  of  righteousness."  This  is  the  second 
great  office  of  illumination,  inherent,  indeed,  in  the 
first;  for  when  he  reproves  the  world  of  righteous- 
ness, then  be  sure  he  will  in  that  reprove  us  of 
sin. 

''Of  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on  me,"  —  that  is, 
because  they  do  not  appreciate  and  lovingly  know  him. 
Reproval  of  sin  follows  necessarily  from  the  clear 
showing  of  righteousness,  from  the  showing  of  what 
Christ  is,  the  Righteous  One,  and  so  what  was  the 
state  of  our  natures  which  could  turn  away  with  igno- 
rance and  distaste.  That  which  exhibits  on  the  one 
hand    righteousness,  or   Christ   as    he   is,  exhibits  just 


96  WHITSUNDA  Y. 

as  plainly  on  the  other  what  we  are  who  cast  him 
out.  A  man  is  as  his  affections,  his  tastes  are.  If  we 
do  not  even  know  the  One  who,  by  all  he  is  and 
does  and  has  done,  is  justly  nearest  to  our  hearts,  and 
who  rises  in  divine  and  measureless  excellence  above 
our  heads,  then  we  are  reproved  of  stupid  blindness, 
of  hardness,  of  meanness  of  conception,  and  of  a  will 
averse  to  the  express  image  of  perfection ;  and  we 
are  reproved  of  a  depth  of  ingratitude  and  lowness, 
just  in  proportion  to  the  cost  and  extent  of  the  benefit 
he  conferred  and  the  height  of  the  excellence  he  re- 
vealed. When,  then,  that  discovering  Spirit  shines 
inward  and  shows  us  who  this  Christ  is,  it  describes  us 
who  stand  opposed,  just  as  light  defines  darkness,  — 
reveals,  and  so  condemns  us,  through  all  the  depth 
of  our  consciousness,  as  the  unrighteous,  sinners;  and 
since  all  righteousness  is  centred  and  shown  in  him, 
the  insensibility  to  it  comprehends  all  sin. 

The  revelation,  by  the  truths  of  philosophy,  by 
our  better  instincts,  by  unknown  influences  coming 
through  Nature  or  our  sorrows,  of  a  better  good  than 
we  have  loved  or  pursued, — this  in  the  moment  it  is 
felt  casts  a  light  inward  upon  what  we  are,  and  back- 
ward upon  what  we  have  been;  it  is  the  tasting  of 
a  spirit  which  gives  us  instantly  "  to  discern  the 
madness  that  is  in  rage,  the  folly  and  the  disease  that 
are  in  envy,"  and  the  dishonor  through  the  whole 
of  us;  and  we  stand  as  the  first  sinning  parents 
stood   when   the   voice    of  God    in   the   garden    awak- 


WHITSUNDAY.  97 

ened  them,  detected  by  the  light,  naked  and  ashamed. 
This  natural  experience  is  but  the  shadow  of  that 
felt  when  the  Sacred  Spirit,  by  drawing  back  the  veil 
from  the  face  of  Christ,  draws  back  also  that  veil 
which  "  lies  upon  our  own  faces,  the  faces  of  all  flesh," 
and  we  see  ourselves  because  w^e  see  him.  Thus  "  he 
reproves  of  sin,  because  they  believe  not "  in  him,  and 
thus  this  second  great  result  of  the  Spirit  —  I  mean 
the  opening  of  self-knowledge  and  self-condemnation 
in  the  heart  —  comes  necessarily  of  showing  Christ  to 
the  heart. 

The  third  and  closing  office  in  this  grand  operation 
is  that  ''  he  will  reprove  the  world  of  judgment,"  —  that 
in  the  very  showing  of  sin  he  will  condemn  it ;  for  as 
soon  as  we  are  made  conscious  of  sin  we  are  conscious 
of  something  not  only  corrupt,  but  essentially  and  ne- 
cessarily a  wrong  and  a  usurpation,  fit  to  be  judged, 
which  ought  to  be  judged,  which  is  inwardly  judged, 
and  from  its  own  conscious  weakness  foreshadows  its 
outer  judgment.  Sin  once  revealed  to  the  soul,  there 
is  with  it  the  revelation  of  a  judgment-seat  and  a  final 
total  destruction. 

The  Spirit  not  merely  reveals  judgment  in  this  way, 
but  by  showing  the  world  clearly  of  Christ  it  shows  him 
as  not  only  the  Righteous  One,  but  the  Overcoming 
One.  It  shows  in  this  one  history  of  goodness,  as  it 
appeared  in  time  and  on  the  earth,  under  every  disad- 
vantage, that  where  righteousness  was  perfectly  lived 
it  carried  with  it  victory,  even  in  the  moment  o^  defeat, 

7 


98       •  WHITSUNDA  V. 

and  that  death  itself  could  not  hold  it,  but  that,  tri- 
umphing openly,  it  ascended  as  a  victor  before  the 
whole  creation,  and  that  therefore,  as  partaking  of  the 
same  spirit  with  this  first-born  and  Head,  all  men  may 
place,  as  he  did,  all  things  and  all  power  beneath  their 
feet. 

So  human  spirits  are  on  the  way  to  be  freed ;  the 
race  has  begun  the  process  of  freedom,  of  divine  dis- 
enthralling from  the  spirit  of  wickedness  in  the  world, 
''  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  as  it  is  mysteri- 
ously and  awfully  called,  that  this,  first  overcome  in  the 
heart  of  Christ,  is  thence  in  all  who  are  Christlike 
broken.  The  Spirit  which  shows  this  shows  judgment 
on  a  scale  as  wide  as  the  disorder,  for  it  shows  that  the 
spirit  of  this  world  is  judged.  So  when  the  Comforter 
is  come  he  will  reprove  the  world,  bear  inwardly  upon 
the  hearts  of  men  the  sense  of  righteousness  in  Christ, 
of  their  own  sin,  and  of  judgment, — judgment  for  sin 
in  the  heart  and  in  the  history  of  man,  judgment 
upon  the  power  of  evil  in  the  world,  —  "  The  prince  of 
this  world  is  judged." 

And  now,  is  all  this  not  surely  true?  Do  we  not 
behold  this  reign  of  judgment  in  its  noble  beginnings? 
Do  we  not  date  from  Christ  the  exalting  of  righteous- 
ness from  the  dust?  Has  he  not  given  the  foretaste 
and  set  on  foot  the  impulse  which  shall  place  righteous- 
ness on  every  throne?  Has  he  not  come  as  a  presence 
of  order  to  all  the  confusion,  unreason,  and  oppression 
of  men,  as  if  the  voice  were  audible,  — 


WHITSUNDA  Y.  99 

"'Silence,  ye  troubled  waves!   and  thou  deep,  peace!' 
Said  then  the  omnific  Word"  ? 

That  word  has  been  heard,  believe  me,  and  *'  the  wild 
uproar  stands  ruled,"  or  begins  to  be,  —  for  all  creations 
are  slow. 

So  then  hear  once  more  the  wonderful  words :  **  If 
I  depart,  I  will  send  him  unto  you.  And  when  he  is 
come,  he  will  reprove  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteous- 
ness, and  of  judgment:  of  sin,  because  they  believe  not 
on  me ;  of  righteousness,  because  I  go  to  my  Father, 
and  ye  see  me  no  more;  of  judgment,  because  the 
prince  of  this  world  is  judged." 


X. 

THE    EXALTATION    OF    CHRIST. 

Being  made  so  ?nuch  better  than  the  angels,  as  he  hath  by  in- 
heritance obtained  a  more  excelle7it  narne  thajt  they.  —  He- 
brews i.  4. 

^RINITY  SUNDAY.  Trinity,  tri-unity,  from  ''  trias," 
-^  is  a  word  first  used  in  Antioch,  and  first  found  in 
Theophilus  in  the  year  151.  The  doctrine  of  Trinity" 
has  played  a  great  part  in  history,  and  in  some  sense 
justly,  as  it  substantially  expresses  the  whole  doctrine 
of  God ;  presenting  the  divine  nature  fully  and  ap- 
propriately in  three  great  aspects,  Creator,  Redeemer, 
Sanctifier,  —  that  is,  God  creating,  rescuing,  and  uplift- 
ing; the  three  great  offices  of  God.  But  it  has  been 
much  abused,  so  that  we  may  agree  with  Calvin  when 
he  says  that  he  "  would  be  willing  the  name  of  '  Trin- 
ity '  should  be  forgotten  and  buried  if  only  this  much 
would  be  acknowledged  by  all,  —  that  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Spirit,  each  discriminated  by  a  peculiar 
property,  are  one  God."  By  "  each  being  discriminated  " 
he  must  mean  that  each  is  distinguished  by  a  peculiar 
and  deep  something,  which  in  a  rough,  popular  way 
we  call  "  personality,"  —  that  is,  three  persons. 

I  shall  speak  not  of  '*  Trinity,"  but  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment  views    of  the    divinity  of  Christ.      As    far    as    I 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHRIST.  lOI 

understand  the  New  Testament,  it  sets  forth  Christ  on 
the  one  hand  as  of  high  descent,  on  the  other  hand 
of  high  ascent,  —  that  is,  as  we  would  express  it,  that 
he  was  of  the  divine  by  lineage,  by  blood,  by  birth, 
and  that  he  was  of  the  divine  also  by  his  own  reach 
and  acquirement;  that  he  was  divine  by  his  descent, 
the  only-begotten  of  God,  and  divine  by  his  ascent, 
**  perfect  through  suffering;"  being  made,  having  be- 
come, '*  better  than  the  angels ;  "  nay,  having  become 
so  much  better  than  they  are  ''  as  he  hath  by  inheri- 
tance obtained  a  more  excellent  name  than  they,"  — 
that  is,  his  elevation  over  the  highest  spirits  is  obtained 
just  as  much  by  his  own  life  as  by  his  nature  or  descent. 
This  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  text,  the  same 
meaning  expressed  by  Saint  Paul  in  his  ''  Epistle  to 
the  Philippians,"  where  he  says,  **  Who,  being  in  the 
form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
God."  *'  Wherefore,"  as  a  recompense,  ''  God  also  hath 
highly  exalted  him." 

This  fact  is  noticed  and  dwelt  upon  very  little,  so 
that  the  Christian  Church,  throughout  its  career,  has  too 
much  insisted  on  the  glory  of  his  inheritance,  —  that 
is,  his  natural  elevation,  —  to  the  slighting  and  omitting 
of  what  he  obtained,  or  the  character  and  life  he  worked 
out  on  earth.  In  concerning  itself  so  much  with  the 
natural  God,  with  his  lofty  and  beautiful  titles  as  such, 
it  forgets,  or  rather  has  not  liked  to  remember,  that 
peculiar  and  most  sacred  title,  that  he  made  himself 
*'  better   than    the    angels,"  that   his   highest   title  was 


102  THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

the  life  that  he  lived.  It  is  as  if  some  crown-prince 
to-day,  not  content  with  inheriting  the  throne,  first 
desired  to  win  the  throne  by  a  life  corresponding  to 
the  greatness  of  the  place  to  be  won.  The  Hindoo 
Brahmins  had  the  same  high  conception.  They  said, 
"  Through  earnestness  did  India  rise  to  the  leadership 
of  the  gods."  This  is  a  beautiful  view;  yet  I  repeat 
that  the  Church  has  not  much  dwelt  upon  it. 

I  am  not  much  astonished,  for  men  naturally  prefer 
the  divine  by  nature  to  the  divine  by  achievement. 
Natural  power,  a  throne  in  the  heavens  by  nature  and 
not  by  acquisition,  that  seems  really  Godlike;  but  a 
divine  heart  and  will, —  that  seems  too  human,  too  much 
like^  us,  to  be  altogether  revered ;  so  the  Church,  when 
thinking  of  the  divinity  of  Christ,  dwells  more  upon 
the  natural  Godship  than  upon  the  Godship  of  effort, 
the  Godship  of  the  divine  man. 

I  know  how  full  the  Bible  is  of  the  great  things 
of  Christ's  nature,  and  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  can 
be  in  doubt  of  the  Bible  feeling  as  to  Christ.  People 
may  doubt  whether  they  find  any  such  statements  as 
are  in  our  creeds;  namely,  precise  and  logical  state- 
ments as  to  the  relation  and  equality  of  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Spirit;  but  that  the  Bible  is  full  of  a 
great  sense  and  impression  of  Christ  every  one  can 
see.  Even  back  in  the  Old  Testament  I  see  how  full 
it  is  of  some  peculiar  event,  of  some  peculiar  person, 
yet  to  come.  I  see  that  its  sacrifices,  its  kingship, 
its   prophets,  seem   to   be   a  picture  of  something,  of 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHRIST.  103 

somebody,  yet  to  come, —  singular  and  wonderful,  a  far 
more  wonderful  sacrificial  king  and  prophet. 

In  the  New  Testament  I  am  astonished  that  any  one 
can  deny  the  apostles'  sense  of  the  singularity  and 
divineness  of  Christ,  —  the  very  men  who  had  seen 
and  touched  him.  There  is  no  description  so  high, 
no  title  so  transcendent,  which  they  do  not  frankly 
give  him,  lavishing  an  adoration  which  could  not  justly 
be  given  to  a  creature.  But  their  sense  of  the  height 
of  Christ  springs  from  their  sense  of  the  divine  heart 
within  him  ;  their  sense  of  his  natural  elevation  chiefly 
comes  from  their  sense  of  his  transcendent  soul.  They 
felt  that  '*  he  had  by  inheritance  obtained  a  more  excel- 
lent name  than  they." 

The  revelation  to  them  of  the  dignity  of  Christ  came 
not  from  without  but  from  within,  —  from  their  own 
inspired  hearts.  They  saw  a  beauty  which  was  fairer 
than  the  sons  of  men,  fairer  than  any  angels.  In  all 
his  life  —  especially  in  his  death  —  he,  in  words,  in 
behavior,  in  feeling,  in  being,  went  not  only  up  to, 
but  far  beyond,  all  they  had  known  of  God.  They 
felt  that  this  man  had  a  higher,  purer  heart  even  than 
the  dread  Jehovah  whom  their  fathers  worshipped ; 
his  charm  was  such,  so  transcendent,  so  touching, 
especially  in  such  moments  as  that  when  he  said,  ''  This 
is  my  blood  of  the  New  Testament  which  is  shed  for 
you." 

Their  souls  were  thus  literally  ravished ;  they  loved, 
they  worshipped,  they  said,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God." 


104  THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHRIST. 

They  said  it,  not  from  the  Hps,  not  from  the  imagina- 
tion, not  from  tradition  or  from  creeds,  but  out  of 
their  whole  soul.  Nay,  if  their  whole  souls  could 
have  said  anything  higher,  they  would  have  said  it, 
for  conception  could  not  set  forth  any  rank  too  high 
for  Christ.  Before  him,  they  and  all  beings  cast  down 
their  crowns  upon  the  ground. 

There  is  in  the  Old  Testament  and  in  the  New  a 
vast  array  of  evidence  on  the  subject  of  the  natural 
divinity  of  Christ.  Long  arguments  may  be  made  to 
the  head,  and  we  may  consent,  and  say,  "■  Christ  is  the 
second  person  of  the  Trinity;  "  but  what  is  that  to  us? 
Something,  no  doubt.  But  only  when  we  see  Jesus 
Christ,  when  we  feel  that  all  external  elevation,  even  of 
a  natural  Godhead,  all  the  power,  even  of  Almighti- 
ness,  is  nothing  to  the  Godhead  of  his  soul,  of  his  hu- 
man life  on  earth;  only  when  we  bow  our  whole  self 
in  adoration  of  that,  in  gratitude,  in  unbounded  love 
to  him  who  ''was  made  so  much  better  than  the  an- 
gels," who  was  made  so  through  his  love,  through  his 
cost,  through  his  blood,  emerging  like  heavenly  gold 
through  much  tribulation,  and  who  leads  our  hearts 
up  after  him  into  his  high  places,  —  not  until  we  feel 
that,  whatever  else  is  high,  or  is  called  God,  this 
head  crowned  with  bloody  thorns,  this  King  of  un- 
speakable self-sacrifice,  is  and  can  be  nothing  else 
than  the  highest,  ''  My   Lord   and   my  God." 

That  was  the  apostles'  orthodoxy,  and  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity.     Man  worships   everything   but   the   right 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHRIST.  105 

thing.  Even  when  he  has  the  right  God,  he  finds 
out  the  lower  parts  about  him  and  worships  these. 
He  worships,  for  example,  divine  knowledge  or  power, 
or  he  worships  a  great  natural  Being,  the  God  who 
creates,  who  sits  on  an  almighty  throne  and  wields 
the  elements.  But  the  God  of  gods  is  the  spirit  that 
was  in  Christ  Jesus,  —  the  spirit  of  mercy  and  of  self- 
forgetfulness.  One  who  reaches  out,  rescues,  uplifts 
the  world,  not  easily,  but  at  his  own  cost,  through 
his  own  blood ;  and  if  Christ  be  not  that  God,  where 
is  he?  We  have  no  such  evidence  that  the  God  we 
see  in  Nature  and  reason  is  so  high  a  spirit,  so  fine 
in  heart,  as  the  Christ  of  the  New  Testament  is  seen 
to  be.  The  spirit  that  was  in  Christ  is  identical  and 
at  all  points  one  with  the  very  highest  conceivable. 

Let  us  make  our  creed  begin  by  appreciating  him  ! 
All  belief  will  develop  grandly  out  of  that.  When 
we  learn  to  adore  the  Spirit,  it  will  lead  us  into  every- 
thing that  is  true.  If  we  feel  rightly  there,  we  will 
think  rightly  as  to  everything  in  religion;  for  we  will 
know  him  whom  to  know  aright  is  truth  eternal  and 
life  eternal. 


XI. 

THE   FEAST   OF  EPIPHANY. 

A  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles. —  Luke  ii.  32. 

AN  Epiphany  is  a  showing  of  something,  a  setting 
forth,  a  manifestation.  Our  Epiphany  is  the 
setting  forth,  or  showing,  of  Christ  to  the  Gentiles. 
This  is  a  signal  event,  and  worthy  of  our  attention. 
It  took  place  after  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  and 
chiefly  through  the  agency  of  Paul.  It  was  beautifully 
foreshadowed,  however,  in  an  event  which  for  poetical 
grace  and  sweetness  is  not  surpassed  by  anything  in 
the  Scriptures, —  I  mean  the  worshipping  of  the  Magi. 
''  Now  when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea, 
came  wise  men  from  the  east  to  Jerusalem,  saying, 
Where  is  he  that  Is  born  King  of  the  Jews?  for  we 
have  seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  have  come  to 
worship    him." 

This  burning  star  in  the  far  east,  far  out  of  the  land 
of  Judea,  and  the  Gentile  sages  kneeling  before  the 
young  child  with  their  gifts,  and  gold,  and  frankincense, 
is  the  first  Epiphanas  of  Christ  to  the  nations,  and 
exhibited,  as  in  a  splendid  symbol,  the  greater  mani- 
festation   that   was    soon    to    come.      There    seems    a 


THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY.  IO7 

meaning  in  the  fact  that  this  took  place  at  his  birth, 
as  if  men  were  called  to  take  notice  that  the  child 
was  intended  from  the   first  as  a  gift  to  the  world. 

This  first  showing  of  Christ  to  Gentiles  seems  to 
many  to  stand  merely  as  a  charming  incident  in  the 
narrative  of  Jesus ;  but  it  was,  in  fact,  meant  to  show 
from  the  beginning  that  Christ  was  for  the  whole  race, 
not  for  any  section  of  it;  and  thus  to  relieve,  if  I  may 
so  say,  that  strict,  stern  Judaism  which  in  many  respects 
he  maintained  during  his  life.  He  distinctly  avowed 
that  he  was  not  sent,  but  to  the  Jews ;  and  there  were 
very  important  reasons  for  this ;  yet  if  there  had  been 
nothing  to  break  its  force,  it  would  not  only  have 
fixed  the  minds  of  his  followers  yet  deeper  in  their 
narrowness,  but  also  it  might  afterwards  have  been 
objected  that  the  extension  of  the  religion  to  the 
Gentiles  was  an  afterthought,  and  not  in  the  original 
design.  How  finely  wise,  then,  as  well  as  beautiful, 
was  it,  to  place  this  catholic  fact  and  splendid 
prophecy  —  for  such  it  was  —  at  the  beginning  of 
his  history ! 

We  come  now  to  the  real  and  great  Epiphany  of 
Christ.  After  his  ascension,  his  religion  was  opened 
to  all  mankind,  —  the  everlasting  doors  of  Truth  set 
wide  apart.  This  was  a  signal  event,  and  remarkable 
on  many  accounts,  especially  to  the  great  mass  of  the 
first  disciples,  who  were  Jews.  I  suppose  that  if  the 
apostles  had  been  asked,  they  would  have  placed 
this    event    among    the    most   wonderful    ever    known. 


I08  THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY. 

They  speak  of  it  in  language  which  astonishes  us. 
Saint  Paul  calls  it  a  mystery,  —  *'  tJie  mystery  which 
in  other  ages  was  not  made  known  to  the  sons  of 
men,  as  it  is  now  revealed  unto  his  holy  apostles 
and  prophets  by  the  Spirit;  that  the  Gentiles  should 
be  fellow-heirs,  and  of  the  same  body,  and  partakers 
of  his  promise  in  Christ."  He  calls  it  again  a  ''  mystery, 
which  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  had  been  hid 
in  God."  So  unexpected  and  so  wonderful  was  it, 
that  even  after  the  apostles  were  enlightened  by  the 
especial  power  of  the  Spirit,  and  taught  in  the  pro- 
foundest  spiritual  mysteries,  this  plain  thing,  so  it 
seems  to  us,  they  could  not  comprehend,  —  that  Christ 
was  to  be  given  to  the  Gentiles  equally  with  them. 
Peter  was  not  convinced  until  he  saw  the  vision  at 
Joppa,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  he  did  not  (and 
perhaps  also  other  of  the  apostles)  overcome  entirely 
the  Jewish  feeling  so  long  as  he  lived. 

How  much  of  the  New  Testament  refers  to  this 
either  in  one  form  or  another,  and  how  vast  were 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  religion  on  account  of 
it !  We  must  not  think  that  the  entire  difficulty  lay 
in  offering  Christ  to  the  Gentiles  at  all  (that  was  only 
the  first  point  in  a  long  series),  but  in  preaching  his 
religion  to  all  people  in  the  independent  and  absolute 
form  in  which  we  now  find  it,  freed  from  all  Jewish 
trammels.  They  reached  this  last  point  most  slowly, 
and  they  seemed  to  look  upon  the  whole  matter  with 
a  wonder  not   less   than  they  felt  at   the   miracles,  or 


THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY.  109 

prophecies,   or   inspiration,  or    any  of  the    stupendous 
events   of  that  period. 

There  was  more  than  their  prejudice  to  be  over- 
come. That  God  should  become  equally  related  to 
all,  that  the  Christ  was  to  become  equally  the  Saviour 
and  King  of  all,  that  all  the  God-given  institutions 
of  Moses  should  become  at  least  unnecessary  and 
finally  be  abolished,  —  there  was  enough  in  this  to 
shock  and  shake  any  heart,  though  entirely  free  from 
blamable  prejudice. 

We  can  easily  see  that  such  a  change  as  this  would 
at  first  appear  unreasonable,  nor  can  we  wonder  at 
their  feelings  and  conduct.  They  were  indeed  *'  slow 
of  heart,"  as  their  Master  said;  but  taking  human 
nature  as  it  usually  is,  these  men  were  striking  monu- 
ments of  the  power  of  God's  Spirit,  as  in  other  things 
so  also  in  this ;  namely,  the  extent  to  which  the  deepest 
and  most  nurtured  prejudices  were  overcome. 

The  perpetuity  of  the  old  system  seemed  not  only 
implied  in  the  pains  and  cost  with  which  it  had  been 
built  up,  but  in  the  very  fact  that  God  had  reared 
it.  Can  that  be  imperfect  which  he  has  established? 
Shall  he  pulldown  that  which  he  has  built?  Besides, 
the  old  sacred  writings  are  full  of  expressions  as  to 
the  perpetuity  of  Zion,  of  which  we  now  indeed  can 
understand  the  deep  spiritual  meaning,  but  which 
they  understood  only  of  their  own  sacred  city  and 
temple  and  ritual.  The  manifestation,  therefore,  of 
the    absolutely    catholic    character    of   Christ    and    his 


I  lO  THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY. 

religion,  and  the  setting  aside  of  all  that  was  local  or 
temporary  must  have  been  a  terrific  change,  —  almost 
enough  to  destroy  their  faith.  Their  delays  therefore 
were  not  wonderful;  but  I  think  there  has  not  been 
so  fine  an  instance  of  speedy  emancipation  from  deep 
habit  and  deep  belief  since  the  world  began. 

There  was  not  a  view  or  a  feeling  of  the  Jewish  mind, 
there  was  not  a  trait  of  the  Jewish  character,  there 
was  not  an  interest  or  a  hope  which  was  not  against 
the  showing  of  Christ  to  the  Gentiles,  against  making 
their  Messiah  the  Messiah  equally  of  all  the  world. 
Their  souls  were  against  all  this ;  therefore  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  they  opposed,  but  most  wonderful  to 
see  how  their  hearts  yielded,  to  see  how  sooji  those 
close,  partial,  intense  Jewish  souls  were  made  un- 
selfish, made  so  full  of  love,  made  so  full  of  wide 
and  noble  thoughts,  as  to  tear  down  the  great  wall 
of  partition,  to  throw  open  with  their  own  hands  the 
gates  of  the  Temple. 

This  was  a  remarkable  event,  not  only  as  it  chanced 
to  oppose  the  prejudices  of  a  particular  people,  but  as 
being  in  reality  a  great  and  unexpected  change  in  the 
divine  dispensations ;  for  though  there  were  abundant 
intimations,  such  as  those  quoted  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  that  the  Gentiles  were  in  some  sense  to  be 
brought  in,  yet  not  in  such  sense  as  the  fact  proved  to 
be,  —  that  is,  not  as  fellow-heirs  of  the  promise.  That, 
at  least,  was  never  stated  with  such  distinctness  as  to  be 
anticipated,  or  Saint  Paul  would  not  have  said  that  it  was 


THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY.  1 1 1 

a  ''  mystery  hid  in  God."  There  were,  I  say,  many  such 
expressions  as  those  of  Isaiah  :  "  The  Gentiles  shall  come 
to  thy  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of  thy  rising. 
.  .  .  The  abundance  of  the  sea  shall  be  converted  unto 
thee,  the  forces  of  the  Gentiles  shall  come  unto  thee.  .  .  . 
The  sons  of  strangers  shall  build  up  thy  walls.  .  .  .  Thy 
gates  shall  be  open  continually;  that  men  may  bring 
unto  thee  the  forces  of  the  Gentiles,  and  that  their  kings 
may  be  brought."  I  do  not,  however,  see  anything  in 
the  real  force  of  these  expressions,  or  others  of  a  like 
nature,  which  would  give  ground  to  anticipate  any  era 
when  all  men  should  stand  alike  before  God. 

Hitherto  the  divine  Being  had  confined  his  revela- 
tions to  a  peculiar  race ;  he  now  was  to  appear  as  the 
Father  of  mankind.  The  Epiphany  of  Christ  to  the 
nations  was  as  if  the  public  reassertion  of  the  great 
fact  that  God  was  the  Father,  and  sought  to  be  the  Re- 
deemer, of  mankind.  This  was  a  great  change,  a  great 
advance  in  the  divine  proceedings  towards  men.  This 
was  one,  and  the  most  signal,  of  those  great  changes 
which  occur  in  God's  dealings  with  the  race.  At  the 
very  moment  that  religion  became  fit  for  all  men,  that 
was  the  moment  when  it  began  to  be  given  to  all. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  mysterious  reasons  which 
kept  revelation  within  a  certain  limit  before  this,  the 
great  and  perfect  gift  of  his  own  Son  he  did  not  con- 
fine to  any  people.  The  work  was  no  sooner  completed, 
than  the  Spirit  of  God  fell  on  Jew  and  Greek  and  Bar- 
barian.    He  who  was  given  for  a  light  to  the  people 


112-  THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY. 

was  held  up  in  all  lands,  spoken  of  in  all  tongues.  The 
veil  was  removed  which  covered  the  face  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  only-begotten  of  God,  shining  in  peace  and 
truth,  was  offered,  to  be  seen  of  all. 

Under  the  old  plan  the  truth  was  fenced  in ;  restric- 
tion after  restriction  was  added,  the  people  were  isolated 
in  various  and  wonderful  ways  from  their  fellow-men. 
But  at  the  Epiphany  of  Christ  began  a  great  change  in 
God's  method:  then  rose  an  era,  not  of  limiting,  but 
of  extending  and  expanding;  not  of  hiding,  but  of 
manifestation;  not  of  binding,  but  loosing.  Contrast 
Saul  of  Tarsus,  the  scrupulous  disciple  of  Moses,  and  a 
representative  of  the  old  era,  —  Saul,  who  would  not  fail 
in  one  iota  of  ritual  or  custom  if  the  heavens  fell ;  who 
would  regard  with  unspeakable  detestation  the  thought 
of  giving  up  anything  for  the  sake  of  a  proselyte,  —  con- 
trast him  with  Paul,  who  yielded  everything,  became 
*'  all  things  to  all  men,"  gave  up  so  much  that  many 
thought  he  was  no  better  than  an  infidel,  simply  be- 
cause he  would  allow  nothing  that  could  be  put  aside 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  expanding  the  knowledge  of  the 
true  God  as  he  was  seen  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Though  Christ  were  preached  of  contention  and  strife, 
still,  if  Christ  were  preached,  he  gloried  and  would  glory. 
To  the  Jew  he  was  as  if  a  Jew ;  at  Rome,  he  was  as  if 
of  Rome.  The  rule  was,  Christ  must  be  shown ;  what- 
ever stands  in  the  way  of  that,  though  it  were  in  itself 
good,  becomes  evil,  and  must  be  trodden  under  foot. 
The  Epiphany  of  Christ  has  come;  he  must  be  set  forth. 


THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY.  1 13 

This  is  the  contrast  of  the  two  eras.  Epiphany  — 
manifestation,  a  setting  and  diffusing  forth  —  may  be  said 
to  be  the  very  name  of  the  present  era  in  God's  Church. 
This  has  been  the  principle  of  his  proceedings  for 
eighteen  hundred  years.  Whatever  delays  his  provi- 
dence has  allowed,  the  Epiphany  of  Christ  is  still  its 
one  aim,  steadily  pursued. 

When  the  Church  in  its  corruptions  obscured  him, 
the  Reformation  gave  him  again  a  glorious  manifesta- 
tion. Forward  through  the  future  there  await  the  world 
new  and  far  more  grand  epochs  of  the  same  character, 
until  the  great  and  final  Epiphanas,  when  no  man  shall 
say  to  his  neighbor,  ''  Know  thou  the  Lord,"  for  all  shall 
know  him,  from  the  least  unto  the  greatest;  *' When  his 
throne  shall  be  set,  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  and 
every  knee  shall  bow  before  him,  and  every  tongue 
confess." 

Let  me  now  remark  that  if  it  be  true,  as  I  have  said, 
that  this  is  an  era  of  Epiphany,  and  that  to  this  great 
and  overbearing  purpose  minor  ones  yield,  —  if  it  be  true, 
I  say,  it  is  an  important  thought.  If  the  Church  had 
attended  sufficiently  to  this  one  fact,  there  never  would 
have  been  such  a  thing  as  a  sect  known  in  the  world. 
If  the  attention  had  been  intensely  turned  to  showing 
Christ  without  scruple,  if  so  be  that  Christ  were  shown, 
then,  I  say,  the  Spirit  of  love  and  wisdom  would  have 
filled  all  hearts  into  which  the  blessed  vision  came,  and 
every  minor  truth,  while  it  seemed  to  be  neglected, 
would  in  fact  be  in  the  best  manner  conserved.     Wise 

8 


114  THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY. 

aggression  is  true  conservatism,  —  that  deep  lesson  the 
Church  has  yet  to  learn. 

Let  the  few  great  central  truths  of  the  faith  be  borne 
inward  on  the  heart,  and  that  once  well  done,  that 
aggression  made,  there  will  be  time  enough  and  will 
enough,  and  the  right  spirit  then,  to  attend  to  and  pre- 
serve all  the  minor  portions  of  the  body  of  truth.  To 
show  Christ,  by  which  I  always  mean,  to  show  the  great 
features  of  his  religion,  is  then  the  first  great  duty  of 
all  Christians,  whether  they  would  preserve  or  extend 
Christianity. 

We  have  now  seen  that  the  Epiphany  is  a  remarkable 
event,  —  more  remarkable  that  among  Jews  the  project 
should  have  been  set  on  foot  of  giving  their  religion, 
their  Messiah,  on  equal  terms  to  all  men,  and  that  such 
a  project  should  have  been  carried  into  effect  by  men 
to  whom,  in  its  conception,  it  was  a  thought  absurd,  and 
hateful  beyond  all  expression. 

The  event  was  also  remarkable  because  it  was  an  un- 
expected and  great  change  in  the  dispensations  of  God, 
making  from  that  moment  the  strongest  expansion 
and  aggression  the  vital  principle  of  his  Church.  It 
was  a  signal  epoch  in  other  particulars.  At  the  very 
time  that  the  Messiah  was  given  as  a  ''  light  to  the  Gen- 
tiles," he  was  as  if  withdrawn  from  his  own  kindred, 
and  that  people,  hitherto  elevated  to  heaven  in  privi- 
lege, were  now  thrust  down,  and  the  ''  nation  scattered  " 
with  a  vengeance  such  as  had  never  been  known  on 
the  earth. 


THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY,  II5 

But  though  the  Messiah  is  now  ours,  it  seems  plain 
from  the  Scriptures,  that  he  shall  not  be  hid  forever  from 
them.  "  Though  blindness  in  part  is  happened  unto 
Israel,  this  is  only  to  be  [Saint  Paul  plainly  says]  until 
the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles  be  brought  in."  And  then, 
*'  all  Israel  shall  be  saved."  Not  only,  it  appears,  are 
they  to  be  rescued,  but  it  would  seem  that  they  are  yet 
to  hold  some  prominent  place  in  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 
For  the  same  apostle  reasons,  if  **  the  casting  away  of 
them  be  the  reconciling  of  the  world,  what  shall  the 
receiving  of  them  be,  but  life  from  the  dead?  " 

Great  as  is  the  event  of  the  Epiphany  of  the  Son  of 
God  among  us  Gentiles,  his  future  Epiphany  among 
the  Jews  shall  be  (it  would  appear)  a  much  more  splen- 
did and  decisive  event.  ''  Behold,  I  have  graven  thee 
on  the  palms  of  my  hands,  and  thy  walls  are  continually 
before  me !  "  And  the  great  evangelical  prophet  Isaiah, 
alluding  to  the  same  event,  says,  "  Whereas  thou  hast 
been  forsaken  and  hated,  so  that  no  man  went  through 
thee,  I  will  make  thee  an  eternal  excellency,  a  joy  of 
many  generations."  "  The  sons  also  of  them  that 
afflicted  thee  shall  come  bending  unto  thee :  .  .  .  and  they 
shall  call  thee  the  city  of  the  Lord,  the  Zion  of  the  Holy 
One."  I  would  not  say  with  too  much  assurance  what 
all  this  may  mean,  but  it  is  hard  to  give  it  any  other 
meaning  than  that  which  is  obvious,  and  on  its  front. 

On  this  account  this  is  an  occasion  on  which  the 
attention  of  the  Church  should  always  be  turned  with 
great  interest  to  that  wonderful  people  who,  although 


Il6  THE  FEAST  OF  EPIPHANY. 

they  are  yet  a  nation  of  outcasts,  a  by-word  and  a  re- 
proach, are  awaiting  perhaps  a  wonderful  future.  Or, 
if  this  should  not  be  the  case,  what  an  affecting  object 
of  reflection  should  they  be  to  us,  for  we  are  elevated 
on  their  ruins,  and  by  their  "  impoverishing  we  are 
made  rich." 

We  behold  also  in  them  what  will  certainly  be  true 
of  us,  however  solid-seeming  our  civilization  stands,  — 
'*  The  nation  and  the  people  that  doth  not  obey  God 
shall  utterly  perish,  and  their  light  shall  be  handed 
over  to  new  people  and  races,  fresh  probationers  in  the 
great  school  of  God." 

With  grateful  and  most  humble  hearts  let  us  reflect 
on  the  giving  of  Christ  to  us  Gentiles,  that  to  us,  ''  who 
sat  in  darkness,  the  light  hath  shined."  Let  us  con- 
template with  awe  both  the  severity  and  goodness  of 
God,  —  severity  to  them  whom  he  hath  rejected,  good- 
ness to  us  whom  he  hath  chosen  and  called.  This  the 
Church  hath  appointed  as  one  of  her  highest  festivals 
of  gratitude.  '*  Rejoice,  O  ye  Gentiles ;  laud  him,  all 
ye  people !  " 


XII. 

THE   CHARACTER  OF   CHRIST. 

Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel;  for  he  hath  visited  and 
redeemed  his  people,  —  Luke  i.  68. 

"^T  /"HEN  we  commemorate  the  birth  of  any  great 
^  '  person,  a  wide  range  of  topics  is  opened  to 
the  mind.  Whatever  relates  to  him  and  has  made 
his  birth  signal  is  matter  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

We  usually,  as  one  prominent  topic,  dwell  upon  the 
character  of  the  person.  We  speak  of  his  superior 
capacity,  of  his  virtues,  what  evils  he  avoided,  what 
good  he  realized,  in  what  struggles  he  lived,  how  he 
bore  himself;  and  beyond  this  we  notice  anything 
that  may  have  been  peculiar  in  the  style  of  his 
excellence. 

So,  commemorating  to-day  the  birth  of  Jesus  Christ, 
it  would  be  befitting  to  show,  respecting  his  character 
at  large,  that  in  him  dwelt  all  the  fulness,  both  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  that  he  taught  and  spake 
as  never  man  spake.  All  his  words  were  aimed  at 
the  centre  of  things,  so  that  in  every  fresh  experience 
of  life  we  are  surprised  to  find  his  wisdom  still  taking 
us  by  the  hand;  and  as  it  extends  through  all  our 
experience  now,  and  goes  ever  still  before  us,  we  may 


Il8  THE   CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST 

expect  it  will  be  so  likewise  through  the  higher  stages 
of  our  existence  hereafter.  Many  things  we  shall 
live  past,  —  even  knowledge  shall  vanish  away,  —  new 
scenes,  new  faculties,  new  feelings  shall  arise ;  but  the 
great  central  laws  he  has  taught  our  childhood  will 
go  hand  in  hand  with  us  through  eternity,  illuminating 
every  new  region  we  enter,  and  surprising  us  by  a 
glory  always  new  and  always  old.  In  this  way  might 
one  speak  of  his  wisdom. 

Then,  as  to  what  is  peculiarly  called  character,  what 
mieht  not  be  said  of  that?  When  on  such  occasions 
other  persons  are  spoken  of,  the  colors  are  usually 
somewhat  heightened ;  but  would  one  attempt  to  speak 
of  the  character  of  Christ,  the  aim  must  be,  not  to  eulo- 
gize, but  to  do  justice.  The  character  of  Jesus  Christ ! 
It  is  something  quite  alone,  —  a  beauty,  a  grace,  a 
depth  altogether  peculiar  and  sacred,  as  if  there  were 
but  one   star  shining   in   the  whole  firmament. 

His  was  a  life  lived  out  through  the  saddest  history 
the  world  has  on  record,  —  lived  sweetly  out,  —  not 
deformed  by  his  unheard-of  sorrows,  but  made  perfect 
by  the  things  which  he  suffered.  He  was  oppressed 
and  afflicted,  but  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is 
dumb,  so  opened  he  not  his  mouth.  ''When  he  was 
reviled,  he  reviled  not  again;  when  he  suffered,  he 
threatened  not,  but  committed  himself  to  him  that 
judgeth  righteously."  There  is  an  amazing  excellence 
in  the  characters  of  some  of  the  apostles ;  but  the 
nature  of  Jesus   has   in   it   a  peculiarity,  a  mystery  of 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST  II9 

sweet  holiness,  appropriate  only  to  him.  He  was 
''fairer  than  the  sons  of  men."  There  is,  it  seems  to 
me,  that  in  his  character  which  strongly  resembles 
childhood,  so  that  when  our  thoughts  go  back  to  con- 
template the  child  of  Mary  there  is  something  in  our 
feelings  very  much  the  same  as  when  we  think  of  his 
nature  at  its  maturity.  He  was  in  sweet  innocency, 
in  holy  tenderness,  in  exquisite  simplicity,  always  the 
child  Jesus,  the  babe  of  Bethlehem.  Some  one,  in- 
deed, has  called  him  the  divine  child,  and,  interpreted 
in  this  way,  perhaps  no  description  will  give  us  a 
truer  impression  of  him,  the  Lamb  of  God. 

On  the  birthdays  of  great  persons  we  also  recall 
their  achievements  and  lay  them  out  before  us.  The 
great  actions  of  Jesus  Christ  would  afford  scope  for 
endless  thought.  His  miracles,  —  behold  them  !  He 
held  the  secret  powers  of  Nature  in  his  hand.  Those 
ancient  and  unchanging  law^s,  the  awful  and  undis- 
turbed order  of  God's  works,  he  interrupted  by  a 
word.  But  higher  things  than  these  are  among  his 
works.  He  perfectly  conquered  himself;  he  lived 
perfectly  his  life.  That  was  an  achievement.  He  also 
so  lived  as  to  afford  a  complete  model  and  example 
to  humanity.  That  was  an  achievement.  He  pre- 
sented in  the  truths  he  gave  to  the  world,  in  w4iat  he 
did  for  the  world,  especially  by  his  death,  in  the  com- 
bination of  light  and  motive  he  afforded  to  the  heart 
of  man,  —  he  presented,  I  say,  the  opportunity,  the 
means,  the  way,   for  the    new  birth    of  all   things,  for 


120  THE    CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST. 

the  re-establishment  of  all  things  on  a  new  basis  of 
glory  and  happiness  as  respects  both  time  and  eter- 
nity. So  that  when  we  commemorate  the  birth  of 
Jesus  we  also  commemorate  the  beginning  of  the  new 
birth  of  the  world  and  the  great  universe, — the  palin- 
genesia  of  things  visible  and  invisible.  This  was  an 
achievement. 

When,  years  after  the  death  of  any  great  and  good 
man,  we  assemble  to  honor  his  memory,  we  recount 
not  only  his  acts  but  the  effects  of  them ;  we  trace  the 
power  of  his  influence  on  our  affairs;  we  show  the 
mark  he  has  left  upon  the  world.  But  what  could  a 
mortal  tongue  say  of  the  influence  of  the  birth  of 
Christ  upon  the  world?  His  spirit  has  penetrated  into 
every  department  of  human  affairs,  and  has  moulded 
everything  it  has  touched.  I  will  not  ascribe  to  him 
all  the  melioration  effected  in  the  condition  of  man,  — 
other  causes  have  no  doubt  had  their  force ;  but 
this  one  cause  stands  incomparably  above  all  others 
that  can  be  named,  and  marks  the  beginning  of 
the  whole  structure  of  modern  civilization.  It  is 
all  "  built  upon  the  foundation  of  the  apostles  and 
prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the  chief  corner- 
stone." 

This  wide  world  of  commerce  may  not  recognize 
him,  but  his  power  is  felt  at  the  very  foundations  of 
trade.  This  wide  world  of  labor  and  art,  in  whatever 
form,  owes  its  deepest  obligation  to  his  religion.  That 
science  which   in  these    times    has    cast   its    intelligent 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST.  121 

and  triumphant  glance  everywhere  through  the  crea- 
tion,—  it  may  deny  and  cast  out  the  name  of  Jesus, 
but  to  him,  above  the  whole  united  catalogue  of  its 
lofty  names,  it  owes  its  honors.  Whence,  also,  this 
enlightened  comity  of  nations  which  is  making  and 
going  on  to  make  of  all  the  kingdoms  but  one 
great  commonwealth, —  can  you  tell  me  whence  that 
comes?  Or  the  widespread  humanity  which  now 
marks  the  civilized  part  of  the  race,  —  whence  is 
that? 

In  all  departments  of  life  there  have  been  those  who 
were  illustrious  for  benefits  conferred,  and  who  deserve 
well  of  all  posterity.  Certain  men  have  in  certain 
things  elevated  the  standard  of  the  race,  aroused  some 
better  feeling,  or  struck  out  some  better  view,  which 
has  become  a  possession  to  the  world  forever.  Some 
have  reformed  a  principle  of  government,  and  given  a 
larger  liberty  to  men.  Some  have  stood  forth  nobly 
in  defence  of  a  human  right.  But  we  celebrate  the 
birth  of  one  whose  life  was  the  head  and  fount  of  all 
benefit,  who  in  all  things  shows  humanity  the  way, 
who  laid  anew  the  very  foundation-stones  of  all  duty, 
of  all  right,  of  all  improvement,  who  pointed  upwards 
to  the  heights  at  which  men  should  aim,  taught  the 
means  to  reach  them,  and  communicated  the  im- 
pulse. Why,  in  the  one  thought,  not  only  taught 
but  planted  in  the  human  soul,  of  the  brotherhood 
of  all  men,  —  in  that  one  thought  is  the  secret  of 
progression. 


122  THE   CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  this  truth,  as  well  as  all  his 
other  truths,  has  not  advanced  far  in  its  effects  upon  the 
world.  At  this  day  we  see  rapidly  in  progress  among 
nations  and  upon  a  grand  scale,  by  men  who  believe 
in  him  and  by  men  who  disbelieve,  that  very  idea  of 
brotherhood  which  without  Christ  would  never  have 
entered  into  the  convictions  of  mankind ;  but  he  has 
sent  it  down  into  their  hearts,  and  it  works  and  will 
work,  turning  and  overturning,  until  a  better  order  of 
the  world  is  settled.  I  recognize,  indeed,  in  the  grand 
fundamental  impulse  given  by  Jesus  Christ  to  the  moral 
w^orld  something  far  beyond  what  is  of  man ;  I  see  in 
it  the  same  fine  and  powerful  hand  which  first  gave  a 
planet  its  motion   and  direction   in  the  heavens. 

On  each  of  these  topics  might  we  dwell  exclusively, 
and  on  each  of  them  might  be  opened  the  grandest 
views.  Nay,  we  might  go  far  beyond  these  views,  and 
rise  to  consider  who,  in  fact,  this  Being  is  whose  earthly 
life  was  so  pre-eminent.  I  might  speak  of  the  lineage 
of  Jesus  Christ,  —  for  the  splendor  of  ancestry  naturally 
lends  something  of  its  lustre  to  descendants,  —  and  tell 
that  he  was  of  the  royal  house  of  David ;  or  I  might 
rise  higher,  and  announce  that  God  Avas  his  ancestor, 
that  his  origin  dated  beyond  the  birth  of  the  firma- 
ment or  the  sun.  God  *'  possessed  him  in  the  beginning 
of  his  way,  before  his  works  of  old.  He  was  set  up 
from  everlasting,  from  the  beginning,  or  ever  the  earth 
was.  When  there  were  no  depths,  he  was  brought 
forth ;    before  the  mountains  were  settled,  or  the  hills, 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  CHRIST.  123 

while  as  yet  the  earth  was   not  made,  nor  the  fields, 
nor  the  highest  part  of  the  dust  of  the  world." 

But  all  these  magnificent  topics  I  have   now  hardly 
done  more  than  enumerate,  and  so  dismiss  them. 

In  all  the  darkness  of  our  natural  state,  groping,  like 
the  blind  for  the  wall,  a  veil  hung  down  upon  the 
future,  and  man  ignorant  of  the  destinies  of  his  own 
soul,  lo,  ''  the  dayspring  from  on  high  hath  visited 
us,  to  give  light  to  them  that  sit  in  darkness."  We 
know  we  are  ignorant;  the  wisdom  of  God  is  incar- 
nated for  us.  Poor,  feeble  creatures,  an  angel,  and 
more  than  an  angel,  hath  descended  from  heaven  to 
strengthen  us.  We  are  conscious  that  all  is  deeply 
wrong  within,  —  we  all  have  gone  astray,  we  have  com- 
mitted iniquity,  we  have  done  wickedly;  but  the 
Deliverer  has  come  from  Sion,  who  shall  turn  away 
iniquity  from  Jacob.  Oh  the  unspeakable  depth  of  re- 
joicing, the  divine  comfort  in  this  thought, —Jesus 
born  to  save  his  people  from  their  sins !  Many  pains 
and  sorrows  are  around  us,  and  death  is  standing  be- 
fore and  not  far  off  from  each  of  us ;  but  Christ  is  born, 
and  sorrow,  we  see,  can  for  each  of  us  be  turned  into  a 
joy  which  the  world  or  fortune  cannot  take  away;  and 
death  itself  is  changed  into  a  most  glorious  gate  of 
hope  and  life.  Yes,  the  death  of  a  man,  which  to  the 
mere  eye  of  Nature  is  the  most  tragical  of  sights,  may 
become  more  divinely  calm,  of  more  magnificent  joy,  of 
more  magnificent  hope,  than  the  setting  of  a  summer's 
sun,  an  orb  enlarging  and  enriching  as  it  sinks. 


XIII. 

WHO   IS   THE   SON   OF   MAN? 

Who  do  men  say  that  /,  the  Son  of  77zan,  ain  ?  He  saiih  unto 
them,  But  who  say  ye  that  I  am?  And  Si7non  Peter  aji- 
swered  and  said,  Thou  art  the  Christ.,  the  Son  of  the  living 
God.  —  Matt.  xvi.  13,  15,  16. 

'T^HE  general  opinion  as  to  Christ  among  the  Jew- 
"^  ish  populace  must  have  been  high.  First  the 
question,  Who  do  men  say  that  I  am?  He  sought  to 
find  what  response,  what  echo,  men  gave  back  to  him. 
While  he  inquires,  he  hints  the  answer,  —  *'  that  I,  the 
Son  of  man;"  for  this  his  favorite  title  is  always  used,  I 
think,  to  express  the  lowness  of  his  condition,  and  to 
hint  its  height. 

But  who  say  ye  that  I  am?  And  Simon  Peter  an- 
swered and  said,  *'  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the 
living  God."  Thou  art  not  only  in  some  low  sense  the 
Messiah,  but  the  "Son  of  the  living  God."  The  merit 
of  this  answer  was  great.  It  seems  easy  to  us;  but 
we  see  all  the  higher  side  of  Christ,  and  only  that. 

The  imagination  is  a  creator,  and  creates  for  and 
against.  Here,  it  was  all  against.  The  Christ  was  a 
man,  —  from  some  province.  His  relations  were  known. 
Simon  was  daily  with  him,  wearing  the  same  common 


WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN?  1 25 

clothing,  eating  the  same  food.  The  greatest  multi- 
tudes followed  Christ  for  the  feeding,  the  curing,  and 
not  alone  for  the  wonder.  There  was  therefore  in  Peter 
a  special  appreciation  of  the  person  before  him.  John 
loved  his  Master;  so  all:  I  think  even  Judas.  But  to 
the  question  —  all  silent!  But  Peter  said,  *' Thou  art 
the  Christ." 

Now  this  in  general  is  a  very  great  merit.  Next  to 
the  hero  is  the  man  who  recognizes  the  hero.  Next  to 
the  high  poet  who  enters  is  the  single  voice  which  in 
the  general  silence  bids  him  welcome.  But  this  case  is 
very  much  apart.  To  appreciate  a  style  of  merit  near 
us  is  one  thing ;  but  what  a  taste  for  the  true  grandeur 
had  this  Galilean  fisherman,  to  believe  that  this  was  the 
Son  of  God,  the  chosen  flower  of  the  Jewish  race,  — 
against  all  the  Jewish  imaginings,  against  all  ideas  of 
the  grand  and  beautiful  Messiah,  —  that  he  so  felt,  so 
penetrated  to  the  inner  divineness  of  the  man  Jesus, 
that  in  spite  of  everything  his  lips  first  uttered,  "  Thou 
art  the  Christ."  To  see  the  Son  of  the  living  God 
in  that  most  impenetrable  of  all  disguises,  nearness, 
familiarity,  and  commonness,  required  an  unusual  eye, 
an  unusual  heart. 

But  what  is  more,  note  the  time  when  he  did  it,  and 
note  the  fulness,  unstintedness  of  the  acknowledgment. 
All  the  theology  of  the  Christian  Church,  all  that  power 
in  Christian  history  which  sprang  from  the  great  ideas 
of  Christ  and  salvation,  were  wrapped  up  in  that  one 
full  burst.     It  seems  like  a  similar  burst  of  confidence 


126  WHO  IS   THE   SON  OF  MAN? 

from  a  similar  spirit  in  far  antiquity, —  "I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth." 

You  can  judge  then  at  once  of  the  feeling  of  Christ ! 
It  overflows.  Why?  Humanly,  in  gratification  at  being 
understood,  the  delight  of  recognition ;  that  the  good 
heart  should  spontaneously  find  him  out;  that  without 
leading  the  good  heart  should  echo  his  own  deep  knowl- 
edge. But  the  delight  of  Christ  was  far  above  this. 
The  kingdom  of  God  and  its  King,  put  in  the  world  in  a 
very  peculiar  way,  was  to  be  believed  in,  received,  not 
from  its  splendors  and  visible  majesty,  —  this  kingdom 
was  not  to  be  imposed  on  the  imaginations  or  even 
forced  on  the  convictions  of  the  world.  Its  Prince  came 
in  the  shape  of  a  quiet,  most  unworldly  man,  to  be  ac- 
cepted by  the  right  heart  as  the  Highest  because  he 
was  simply  the  Best.  When  Christ  came,  the  earth  was 
to  be  tested,  whether  it  could  love,  receive,  and  enthrone 
the  good  because  of  its  goodness.  If  the  human  heart 
was  incapable  of  this,  it  might  be  fit  for  another  sort  of 
Prince,  but  not  for  the  Prince  Christ.  It  was  not  only 
virtue,  but  a  very  peculiar  and  unpromising  style  of 
virtue,  which  was  presented.  And  as  man  nowhere 
had  ever  been  given  to  adoring  virtue,  even  in  those 
shapes  where  it  was  much  more  suited  to  him,  would 
he  adore  this  most  divine  but  most  alien  Christ?  This 
was  the  question. 

It  was  answered  in  a  measure  in  all  those  people  who 
had  begun  to  love  and  vaguely  reverence  him ;  but  in 
the  heart  of  Peter  it  was  first  answered  full  and  clear,  — 


WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MA  A'?  1 27 

and  this  was,  that  the  problem  was  solved,  namely,  that 
absolute,  pure  virtue,  not  tricked  out  and  bespangled, 
borrowing  no  aid  from  a  foolish  imagination,  —  that  this 
could  be  loved  and  adored ;  and  not  by  the  refined  and 
thoughtful  merely,  but  by  the  common  heart  of  fisher- 
men and  such  like !  The  peculiar  spirit  and  design, 
then,  of  this  most  original  project  was  confirmed;  what 
was  purely,  severely  spiritual  could  be  adored,  and 
could  be  adored  by  those  for  whom  it  was  especially 
intended.  The  Lord  saw,  I  think,  as  by  a  glimpse  of 
lightning,  that  the  heart  of  Peter  prefigured  the  good 
and  honest  human  heart  everywhere ;  that  such  a  king- 
dom as  he  proposed  was  feasible ;  that  he  himself  was 
the  fit  king  of  the  common,  human  heart  when  it  was 
simple  and  pure;  and  so  it  was  that,  in  a  sort  of  rapture, 
he  exclaimed,  "  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jona."  He 
had  not  confided  in  the  human  heart  in  vain.  He  sees 
Peter  step  forth,  and  in  him  he  sees  the  first  of  the 
long  series  who  will  confess  unto  death,  '*  Thou  art 
the  Christ." 

He  recognized  in  such  discernment  the  light  of  that 
divine  Spirit  which  illuminates  all  the  good,  —  ''Flesh 
and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee."  This  did  not 
come  from  your  mind,  Peter,  or  from  the  ordinary  im- 
agination and  heart  of  mortals ;  it  came  from  a  new  and 
instructed  spiritual  taste  which  discerned  my  glory,  as 
the  musical  ear  knows  the  musical  sound ;  it  is  a  heaven- 
descended  insight.  The  keenest  eye  of  mere  nature 
never,    never   could    see   it,  —  could    not   then,   cannot 


128  WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN? 

now.  People  talk  of  Christ,  and  many  lavish  eulogy 
upon  him ;  but  no  man  can  truly  say  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  Lord,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  ''The  vulture's  eye 
hath  not  seen  it."  It  is  seen  only  by  a  glance  from  the 
true  heart. 

Simon  Peter,  then,  not  only  declared  and  proclaimed 
who  the  Christ  was,  but  in  doing  that  revealed  his 
own  heart,  declared  and  proclaimed  who  he  himself 
was,  —  that  he  was  one  of  the  sons  of  God,  who  was 
capable  of  knowing  the  true  Son ;  that  he,  Peter,  was 
the  first  spirit  of  the  coming  Church,  whose  character- 
istic was  to  be  the  discerning  and  adoring  of  Christ. 

And  so  we  are  now  prepared  to  understand  those 
words  of  Christ  which  through  the  last  sixteen  centuries 
have  been  so  terribly  abused.  The  dialogue  is  this: 
*' Who  am  I?"  "  Thou  art  the  Christ."  "  And  I  say  also 
unto  thee  that  thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I 
will  build  my  church."  That  is,  you  have  declared  to 
me  who  I  am,  and  this  enables  me  to  declare  to  you 
who  you  are,  —  Peter,  a  stone,  a  rock  of  foundation ; 
that  is,  you  have  in  you  a  spirit  of  such  description, 
of  such  kinship  to  divine  things,  that  it  can  be  trusted. 
This  spirit  is  a  rock  of  assurance,  on  which  I  will  build 
my  Church.  The  great  honor  and  dignity  which  Christ's 
words  gave,  were  given  to  that  spirit  of  faith  which  at 
that  time  spoke  through  Peter,  and  which  Peter  repre- 
sented, —  to  him  and  his  spiritual  (not  official)  succes- 
sors. I  will  build  my  Church  on  this  Petrine  spirit, 
on  this  rocky  substance. 


WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN?  129 

But  this  is  far  from  all.  Besides  this,  these  words 
can  only  be  adequately  and  reasonably  explained  as 
a  personal  promise  to  Peter,  in  spite  of  Protestants. 
They  meant  to  say  that  personal  dignity  was  given 
to  him ;  that  as  he  gave  the  first  decided  enthronement 
to  Christ,  he  himself  was  forever  to  stand  as  the  first 
foundation-stone  of  the  Church.  Many  shall  confess 
me,  but  forever  it  is  unalterable  that  tho?c  art  the  first. 

The  historical  priority  is  always  regarded  as  a  matter 
of  weight  in  the  Bible.  Men  are  there  as  important,  not 
merely  from  what  they  do  and  are,  but  also  from  the 
place  they  hold  in  the  series.  So  with  Adam,  Abra- 
ham, for  example ;  the  thing  is  natural.  This  priority  is 
not  small.  Among  ranks  of  honor  of  every  sort,  in 
science,  literature,  empire,  the  founders  have  ever  been 
thought  of  especial  dignity.  The  Protestant  world, 
which  has  rightly  deposed  Saint  Peter  from  his  false 
place,  has  wrongfully  deposed  him  from  the  place  in 
which  he  actually  stood  in  the  early  Church ;  namely, 
as  being  not  only  one  of  the  three  great  apostles, 
with  James  and  John,  but  intended  to  bear  in  the  rule 
of  the  Church  a  certain  prominency  among  the  breth- 
ren, —  a  somewhat  especial  respect ;  and  this,  not  only 
because  of  his  age  and  energy,  which  made  him  a  natu- 
ral leader,  but  because,  I  suppose,  of  the  position  in 
which  the  Lord  himself  had  placed  him,  —  I  mean,  as 
the  first  who  had  clearly  acknowledged  him. 

So  far  is  but  just.  Nay,  I  would  go  farther  than 
that.    Not  only  was  he  first  in  time,  but  there  was  clearly 

9 


130  WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN? 

recognized  in  Peter  an  eminency  in  the  spirit,  and  quali- 
ties fitting  him  for  a  prime  leadership  in  the  Church; 
and  while  true  to  the  spirit  of  his  confession,  and  just  in 
proportion  as  he  was  true  to  it,  was  the  promise  a  per- 
sonal one.  The  promise,  I  say,  was  personal,  but  not 
absolute ;  it  was  dependent  entirely  on  the  elevation  he 
maintained,  in  that  spirit  in  which  he  began.  So  long 
as  Peter  showed  the  same  eminency  over  all  mankind 
as  he  did  at  that  moment,  being  in  faith  before  all, 
Christ  declares  he  is  in  rank  before  all.  It  was  the  faith, 
the  love  of  Peter  which  gave  the  rank  of  Peter.  In  the 
natural  world  gifts  and  honors  are  awarded  according 
to  many  rules,  often  for  no  reasons^  or  reasons  very 
arbitrary  and  partial ;  but  in  the  spiritual  kingdom  all 
God's  favors  have  but  one  base,  —  the  measure  of  spirit. 
No  partialities.  So  long  as  Peter  remained  highest  in 
this  spirit  he  was  the  natural  Primate  in  Christ's  king- 
dom ;  but  if  Peter  fell  away  into  another  spirit,  or  even 
if  he  grew  inferior  to  other  souls,  if  a  Paul  should  ap- 
pear, and  spread  and  rule  the  Church  with  a  finer  spirit 
than  Peter,  and  create  it  anew  with  grander  thoughts  — 
But  why  talk  of  this?  It  is  obvious  enough  that  it 
is  a  personal  promise,  but  just  as  obvious  that  it  was 
conditional. 

Look  at  the  facts.  That  it  was  personal  is  seen  by 
the  history;  we  see  it  was  actually,  personally  fulfilled. 
That  it  was  conditional  is  seen  just  as  clearly.  The 
Lord  interprets  it  so  for  himself  in  this  very  passage. 
Read  on :  "■  From  that  time  forth  began  Jesus  to  show 


WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN?  131 

unto  his  disciples  how  he  must  go  unto  Jerusalem,  and 
suffer  many  things."  Now,  this  was  not  at  all  Peter's 
view.  So  '*  Peter  took  him,  and  began  to  rebuke  him  : 
Be  it  far  from  thee,  Lord.  But  he  turned  and  said 
unto  Peter,  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan;  thou  art  an 
offence  unto  mxC :  for  thou  savorest  not  the  things  which 
be  of  God,  but  those  that  be  of  men."  No  words  more 
intense.  It  was  as  if  an  odor  from  the  pit  had  shocked 
his  sense :  and  so  everywhere.  He  treats  Peter,  and 
teaches  others  to  treat  him,  as  high  or  low,  an  angel  or 
Satan,  just  according  to  the  spirit  he  showed.  When 
he  sees  the  right  flash,  he  cries  out,  "  This  is  the  strength 
and  glory  of  my  Church ;  "  when  he  sees  the  common 
soul,  he  cries  out,  ''  This  is  the  Satan." 

Moreover,  that  it  was  conditional  is  seen  also  in  the 
actual  history.  We  see  Saint  Peter  riding  in  fine 
supremacy  for  a  time,  like  Hesperus  in  the  evening 
sky,  until  a  greater  luminary  (I  mean  Saint  Paul) 
ascends  and  rules  the  night. 

But  enough  of  this.  And  yet  it  is  not  a  trifling 
matter.  A  whole  Christian  world,  through  a  large  part 
of  the  Christian  Era,  is  built  upon  this  sentence,  — 
these  few  words  the  creating  edict.  And  carried  so 
far  to-day,  it  is  solemnly  declared  that  the  successor 
on  Saint  Peter's  throne  not  only  rules  the  Christian 
Church,  but  rules  it  with  a  divine  fulness,  an  infalli- 
bility, which  did  not  belong  to  Saint  Peter  himself. 

I  may  say,  in  general,  that  these  gospel  narratives 
of  Jesus  Christ  can  never  be  interpreted  with  full  truth 


132  PFNO   IS   THE   SON  OF  MAX? 

until  there  rises  up  a  soul  who  from  such  congeniality 
with  this  Being,  with  his  most  unique  modes  of 
feeling  and  thinking,  is  authorized  to  say  what  he 
means.  The  spirit  of  the  Church  at  large  has  inter- 
preted justly,  I  suppose,  the  essence  of  the  gospel; 
but  the  full  interpretation  of  Christ  is  yet  to  come,  — 
in  the  highest  Church  of  the  future,  in  some  highest 
heart  of  the  future ! 

The  last  thing  to  which  I  would  call  attention  is, 
that  when  he  had  rebuked  Peter  he  turned  and  said 
to  his  disciples,  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let 
him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow 
me."  Most  impressive  is  the  utterance  of  these  words 
just  here,  at  this  moment.  For  an  instant  he  had  seen 
before  him  the  heart  of  Peter,  so  that  he  was  filled  with 
feehng,  —  I  might  say,  enraptured;  but  in  one  moment 
he  saw  the  same  spirit  shrunk  up  at  the  mere  look  of 
humiliation.  The  deep  self,  which  lies  under  us  all, 
the  comfortable  self,  the  proud  and  ambitious  self, 
came  forth.  Alas!  Disappointment,  shock,  —  yes,  dis- 
gust, aversion;  so,  "If  any  man  will  come  after  me, 
let  him  deny  himself" 

No  matter  how  glow^ing  religious  feeling,  how  clear 
rehgious  insight,  how  courageous  religious  confession, 
the  test  is,  can  we  stand  the  cold,  hard,  grating  denial 
of  self?  Are.  we  content  to  suffer  something,  to  be 
thought  a  little  less  of  ?  Look  at  Peter,  slipping  down 
from  heaven  to  earth ;  and  that  is  the  picture  of  us  all. 
But  oh  the  reality  of  Jesus  Christ ! 


WHO  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN?  133 

Here,  two  beings  side  by  side  for  one  moment, 
seeming  to  be  alike,  both  exulting  in  pure  spirit. 
"Thou  art  the  Christ,"  says  one.  "Thou  art  Peter, — 
a  rock,"  says  the  other.  But  immediately  the  one 
who  is  the  Master,  the  one  whose  destiny  from  his 
loftiness  would  seem  to  claim  some  exemption,  turns, 
and  speaks  of  his  coming  sufferings  with  no  reluc- 
tance, —  embraces  them  and  bows  his  head  to  them ; 
but  the  other,  the  servant,  at  the  mere  thought  of 
cold  reality,  of  mortification,  shrivels  up,  and  is  nothing 
any  more.  The  steadiness  and  reality  of  Jesus  Christ, 
who  knew  and  accepted  the  fact  that  in  the  denial  of 
self  was  his  life,  —  that  his  life  was  not  outside  of  that, 
but  in  it  and  by  it! 

That  is  a  hard  thing  to  make  up  the  mind  to,  — 
that  in  the  denial,  death  of  our  lower  nature,  and  by 
that,  is  the  life  of  our  eternal  spirit.  Hard,  —  but 
once  deeply  realized  and  accepted,  there  is  a  joy  and 
"  peace  which  passeth  understanding."  ''  I  have  a  lik- 
ing for  tribulation,"  said  Paul ;  and  this  divine  Master, 
the  Great  Head  of  all  self-denial,  speaks  often  of  his 
peace,  —  his  peculiar  peace.  And  he  adds  just  here: 
"  For  whosoever  will  lose  his  life,  shall  save  it."  What 
is  that? 

He  means  that  for  the  death  we  suffer  when  we 
mortify  self  we  find  even  now  another  life,  —  that  the 
ereat  idea  of  final  resurrection  is  rehearsed  and  antici- 
pated  in  every  moment's  experience.  Nay,  that  the 
more  real    resurrection    of  the  two  —  the  soul's  resur- 


134  ^^O  IS   THE  SON  OF  MAN? 

rection  --  is  that  which  is  now  taking  place.  By  every 
suffering  I  willingly  accept  in  resignation  to  God,  or 
in  love  for  my  Master,  Christ,  my  soul  springs  and 
blossoms  in  spiritual  life.  Awaking  to  righteous  life 
to-day  is  the  first  step  of  awaking  to  everlasting  life 
to-morrow !  And  the  awakening  of  to-day  is  as  real, 
and  a  far  more  sublime  fact,  than  the  awakening  of 
the  body  from  the  dust  of  the  earth  hereafter ! 

The  Lord  gave  his  few  friends,  then,  two  great  facts 
of  religion :  the  first,  the  chilling,  sobering  fact  is,  ''  If 
any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself 
and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me ;  "  the  second, 
the  exhilarating  fact,  that  this  denial  of  a  self  is  in 
reality  the  gift  of  a  self,  this  death  is  a  hidden  life, 
an  exchange  of  a  poor  and  mortal  soul  for  a  pure 
and  everlasting  soul.  *'  He  that  loseth  his  life  shall 
find  it." 


XIV. 

THE    SCRIBES    AND    PHARISEES. 

For  I  say  tinto  you^  That  except yotir  righteotisness  shall  exceed  the 
righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees^  ye  shall  in  no  case 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  —  Matt.  v.  20. 

A  BOLD  speech,  uttered  in  the  midst  of  a  people 
where  the  scribes  and  the  Pharisees  were  the 
aristocracy  and  power !  It  seems  very  important,  then, 
to  ascertain  what  was  this  righteousness  of  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees,  because  there  is  here  such  a  clear  state- 
ment that  our  righteousness,  to  be  worth  anything, 
must  be  of  a  very  different  order  from  theirs.  I  speak 
of  these  Pharisees,  whose  character  in  every  view  de- 
serves the  attention  of  all  thinking  persons.  It  is  an 
old  and  trite  subject,  but  because  it  reaches  so  far 
down  into  principles  it  is  ever  new. 

This  sect  was  so  powerful,  its  vices  and  errors  were 
so  great,  and  it  had  such  peculiar  weight  with  the 
Jewish  people  at  that  time,  that  the  teaching  of  our  Lord 
might  almost  be  described  as  a  protest  against  Phari- 
saism, and  his  religion  as  a  doctrine  anti-Pharisaic. 
The  two  stand  opposed  to  each  other,  as  form  to  life, 
show  to  reality,  reason  to  faith,  pretence  to  substance ; 
and  no  one  thing  will  give  so  much  light  to  Christ's 
words  as  the  full  and  constant  knowledge  of  this  fact, 


136  THE   SCRIBES  AND   PHARISEES. 

namely,  that  he  lived  among  Pharisees,  and  that  the 
grandest  aspect  of  his  life  and  teaching  was  as  a 
protest   against   them. 

Pharisaism  was  the  most  extensive,  inveterate,  and 
authoritative  form  of  evil  which  surrounded  our  Lord ; 
he  not  only  taught  directly  against  it,  but  even  in  his 
ordinary  instructions  he  naturally  and  wisely  spoke 
with  a  side-glance  of  opposition  to  it,  —  giving  to  his 
doctrines  the  poignancy  of  contrast,  not  only  to  sin 
in  general,  but  to  the  peculiar  form  which  it  had  then 
taken.  In  such  teaching,  for  instance,  as  this,  "  He 
came  not  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repent- 
ance," we  recognize  at  once  what  was  in  his  mind. 
In  the  only  place  where  he  is  said  to  have  rejoiced, 
it  was  because  such  as  they  were  abased,  and  the 
humble  exalted.  "  In  that  hour,  Jesus  rejoiced  in 
spirit,  and  said,  I  thank  thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  that  thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the 
wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes." 

Indeed,  if  we  once  get  a  clear  notion  of  how  great 
and  pernicious  a  fact  Pharisaism  was  at  that  time,  and 
then  read  the  New  Testament  with  this  idea  always 
before  us,  we  shall  find  a  new  meaning  and  force 
given  to  it  throughout. 

What  distinctly  were  the  Pharisees,  and  what  was 
their  character?  They  were  the  most  powerful  sect 
among  the  Jews,  who  had  joined  to  God's  law  a  vast 
body  of  minute  additions,  partly  derived  from  tra- 
ditions   and   partly  from   the    authoritative    interpreta- 


THE  SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES.  137 

tions  of  their  doctors,  and  whose  pride  it  was  to 
beUeve  impHcitly,  and  to  obey  to  a  point  and  through 
all  its  endless  detail,  their  vast  and  Brahminical  system 
of  religious  observance.  While  they  tithed  "  the  mint, 
and  anise,  and  cummin,  they  forgot  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law."  The  heart  of  religion,  faith  and 
feeling,  was  eaten  out;  they  made  their  whole  duty 
to  consist  in  their  trifling  forms. 

Now,  if  we  wish  to  realize  their  characters,  let  us 
get  clearly  before  us  the  idea  of  a  man  who  by  abusing 
his  conscience  has  come  conscientiously  to  feel  that 
his  whole  duty,  safety,  and  perfection  are  secured  by 
certain  outward  rites  and  observances,  and  whose 
heart  is  then  left  free  to  be  just  what  it  may,  with 
not  one  check  of  conscience;  nay,  his  conscience 
indorsing  and  authorizing  whatever  he  sees  fit  to  do. 
For,  feeling  that  he  is  entitled  to  the  peculiar  favor 
of  God,  and  looked  on  with  reverence  and  wonder  by 
the  people,  and  placed  over  their  heads  in  Moses' 
seat,  representing  his  awful  religious  authority,  all 
the  sanctions  of  religion  are  lent  to  give  their  power 
to  his  delusion.  Man  usually  is  only  wicked  against 
his  conscience  and  every  higher  impulse;  but  this 
class  of  men  feel  they  have  all  heaven  on  their  side, 
let  them  be  whatever  they  see  fit. 

This  is  a  most  wonderful  condition  of  the  human 
heart,  and  not  rare ;  the  likeness  of  it  has  often  been 
repeated  in  the  history  of  the  world.  There  is  no 
wickedness    once    to    be    named   with   this;     for   here 


138  THE  SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES. 

that  angel  of  light,  the  conscience,  which  dwells  in 
the  soul  of  every  man,  is  no  longer  left  as  an  accusing 
or  reproaching  spirit.  Uncrowned  and  deposed,  it 
lingers  still  in  the  confines  of  the  heart,  but  be- 
comes transfigured  into  an  angel  of  darkness,  and 
sits  in  the  very  seat  made  vacant  by  the  delegate  of 
God,  and  issues  with  the  authority  of  heaven  the  very 
laws  and  liberties  of  hell !  Church  wickedness  this 
is;  and  Church  wickedness  then,  or  at  any  time, 
is  wickedness  which  has  conscience  to  back  it,  or 
rather  which  by  some  legerdemain  has  introduced  a 
disguised  devil  in  the  form  of  the  conscience,  and 
given  to  it  the  regal  seat  of  the  soul.  No  delusion 
can  be  conceived  more  hopeless  or  more  malignant 
than  this;  and  this  was  the  state  of  the  great  Phari- 
saic body  in  the  time  of  our  Saviour.  The  poor 
people,  awed,  as  they  usually  are,  by  a  false  show  of 
sanctity,  blindly  followed  their  blind  leaders. 

You  can  see  now  the  reason  of  the  peculiar  tone  in 
which  Christ  speaks  of  the  Pharisees.  He  speaks  of 
this  form  of  wickedness  as  he  speaks  of  nothing  else. 
He  rises  to  terrible,  blasting  denunciation  as  he  speaks 
of  them.  He  withers  them  with  a  sort  of  solemn 
satire.  He  calls  off  the  multitude  from  following 
them,  and  though  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  land  as 
the  recognized  aristocracy  of  righteousness,  he  points 
the  finger  at  them,  and  with  sublime  courage  proclaims, 
**  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites ! 
Woe  unto  you,  blind  guides !     Woe  unto   you  !  " 


THE  SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES.  139 

It   may  seem   strange,  but   I   hesitate    not   to   assert 
that  the  Pharisees  are  not  dead,  have  never  been,  and 
never  will   be.     This   is   a   character  which,  with  many 
modifications,   belongs   to    human    nature   whenever    it 
endeavors   to    give    to    its    corruptions    the   sanctity  of 
religion.     As   there    are    many  reasons  why  the   spirit 
of  man,   though    merely   worldly,  does    not  choose  or 
does  not  dare  to  cast  off  the  advantages,  or  even  the 
obligations,    of   religion,   there    is    a   necessity   that    it 
should  work  out  for  itself  such  a  union  with  religion 
as   will    allow,    under   sanctimonious    appearances,    the 
indulgence    of   the    corrupt    realities.       Conscious    and 
entire  hypocrisy  cannot  effect  this  result  half  so  well, 
and  is  not  half  so   agreeable  to  man,  as  where  he  can 
unite  the   complacency  of  a  satisfied   conscience  with 
the    inner  wickedness    of  the    heart.      In    no  way  can 
he  do  this  so  well  as  by  demanding  of  himself  an  im- 
mense   number    of    outward    observances    and    austere 
self-sacrifices.     For  these  hardships  purchase  his  own 
applause,   win    over   his    conscience    into    proud    satis- 
faction, and  allow  him,  while   he  fulfils  punctually  his 
duty   in    nothings,   to    omit    it    in    things    of    weight. 
Henceforth  the  man  can  believe  he  serves    God   even 
while    he    gives   himself  wholly  to    corruption.      Here 
is  the  whole  account  of  this  strange,  condition. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  any  one  who  knows  the  least 
of  the  history  of  his  race  or  of  the  human  heart,  that 
in  the  ambiguity  of  all  false  religions,  and  nearly 
equally  so    in   respect   to   the   one   true,  divine    faith. 


HO  THE  SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES. 

there  are  two  grand  evils,  always  present,  always  to  be 
watched,  —  disbelief  on  that  hand,  formalistic  hypocrisy 
on  tJiis. 

These  two  have,  in  fact,  one  common  origin,  but 
taking  different  directions.  With  infidelity  I  have  noth- 
ing now  to  do,  though  it  is  a  greater  foe  than  we  know, 
and  has  many  forms,  and  works  while  we  sleep ;  but 
some  form  of  simulated  religion  is  all  about  us.  All 
that  we  see  in  any  and  every  church,  and  in  any  and 
every  heart,  which  is  not  infidelity  strictly,  yet  which 
is  not  love  and  trust  in  a  merciful  salvation,  reverence 
to  God,  and  affectionate  obedience  to  his  rules,  with 
an  earnest  humanity  towards  the  world  of  men,  espe- 
cially to  those  in  whom  shines  the  divine  likeness,  —  all 
which  is  not  this  is  of  the  nature  of  the  ''  righteous- 
ness of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,"  which,  if  we  ex- 
ceed not,  we  ''  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven." 

I  see  in  some  churches  the  attention  and  also  the 
heart  concentrated  and  almost  merged  sometimes  in 
doling  questions  of  church  government,  and  strifes 
of  words ;  sometimes  in  questions  of  some  real  im- 
portance, as  to  who  ought  to  be  the  rulers,  or  as  to 
the  order  and  character  of  the  public  worship  in  the 
churches,  or  as  to  the  dogmas  of  religion,  —  discrimi- 
nating nicely  and  laboriously,  and  working  with  all 
energy  to  set  up  a  system  of  opinions  in  the  minds 
of  men.  I  see  others  yet,  engaged  with  like  earnest- 
ness   in    church    building,    in    enlarging    bounds,    and 


THE   SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES.  141 

supporting  and  managing  the  whole  mechanism.  I 
see  the  whole  engaged  for  the  heathen.  This,  of 
course,  is  all  well ;  but  it  is  possible  that  this  all  may 
stand  to  us  much  in  the  same  place  that  religious 
ceremony,  and  even  *'  the  phylacteries,  enlarging  the 
borders  of  the  garment,"  stood  to  less  enlightened 
people. 

Men  feel  that  if  they  are  doing  something  which  is 
clearly  of  good  result,  or  which  may  be  so,  if  they  make 
sacrifices  or  labor  for  that  which  is  about  religion,  or 
which  perhaps  they  persuade  themselves  is  most  im- 
portant to  it,  —  that  if  they  are  actually  thus  engaged, 
things  are  going  very  well.  Sometimes  the  affairs 
of  the  heart  indeed  are  slightly  attended  to,  but  soon 
slurred  over,  and  the  man  is  absorbed  again,  so  far 
as  his  religious  hours  are  concerned,  in  the  things  of 
which  I  have  spoken. 

Perhaps  this  is  a  picture  of  much  of  the  religious 
life  of  the  day;  and  perhaps  it  is  true,  as  I  have  in- 
timated, that  man  has  still  his  way  of  living  the  life  of 
the  world  even  in  the  midst  of  the  golden  candlestick ; 
his  righteousness,  all  things  being  considered,  not 
very  far  exceeding  the  "■  righteousness  of  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees." 

The  interval  between  this  species  of  religion  and  the 
true  is  broad  and  deep  as  a  gulf  Is  religion  a  thing  of 
the  heart?  Is  it  love,  joy,  peace  in  the  Holy  Ghost? 
Do  we  count  attendance  at  church,  activity  in  church 
affairs,  the  act  of  communing,    a   ready   liberality,    as 


142  THE  SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES. 

nothing  unless  they  proceed  from  a  living  principle  of 
love,  God-ward  and  man-ward  ?  Yet  further,  may  we 
not  have  a  sort  of  religious  faith,  be  interested  in  the 
truth  and  ready  to  defend  it,  —  and  in  many  matters 
this  faith  may  regulate  our  lives,  especially  in  the 
outward  framework  of  them,  —  yet  all  this  may  not 
be  essentially  different  from  what  our  Saviour  calls 
hypocrisy? 

No  one  can  state  this  so  strongly  as  Paul  does: 
''  Though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  moun- 
tains." What  power  of  religious  belief!  **  Though  I 
bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  though  I  give 
my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  charity,"  —  that  is, 
though  I  have  all  the  outside  and  not  the  inside,  —  I  am 
nothing.  Here  is  the  core  and  vital  centre  of  the  whole 
matter,  —  love ;  and  if  that  be  not  in  the  heart,  though 
everything  else  be  there,  though  all  wear  so  fair  an  ap- 
pearance that  neither  the  eye  of  man  nor  spirit  can  find 
any  flaw,  —  yet  before  God  who  knows  the  heart  we 
are  but  as  the  sound  of  the  empty  brass  and  the  noisy 
tinkle  of  a  cymbal.  But  let  nothing  now  said  discour- 
age ;  for  it  is  incomparably  easier  to  be  the  real  thing 
than  to  be  the  false. 

Nature  builds  her  plants,  animals,  and  all  her  living 
structures  from  within  outwards.  The  beautiful  soul  or 
principle  of  life  from  which  she  begins,  works  out  and 
through  the  fair  structure  of  stem  and  leaf  and  blossom 
and  fruit.  The  life  of  a  Christian  must  be  built  in  the 
same  manner,  from  a  great,  all-shaping  principle  of  grati- 


THE   SCRIBES  AND  PHARISEES.  143 

tude,  —  love,  —  which  shall  make  all  his  external  acts 
not  only  symmetrical,  but  full  of  life ;  not  an  empty 
form,  built  around  the  soul  of  the  man,  not  "the  right- 
eousness of  Pharisees,"  —  not  the  form  of  a  dead  man, 
which,  though  perfect  in  every  part,  the  machinery  of 
the  heart  all  in  order,  has  no  heart-power,  no  stream  of 
vitality  poured  through  the  system,  no  warmth  in  the 
flesh,  no  color  in  the  skin,  no  life  in  the  eye. 

I  call  all  to  a  vital  religion.  In  that  only  is  there 
joy  and  power.  "  Make  clean  the  inside  of  the  cup  and 
the  platter."  Cleanse  out  the  bones  which  lie  within 
the  whited  sepulchre  of  our  daily  lives.  Away  with 
religious  ostentation,  which  loves  the  prayer  in  the 
market-place,  —  with  religious  ambition,  which  would 
seat  itself  in  the  chief  rooms,  —  with  religious  benevo- 
lence, which  sounds  its  trumpet  before,  —  with  the  blas- 
phemous religious  pride,  which  dares  in  the  presence 
of  God  to  feel  that  we  are  not  as  this  publican ;  away 
with  religious  worships  and  sacrifices  and  hard  duties, 
while  we  have  such  hearts  within  us !  O  holy  name 
of  religion,  defied,  abused,  defamed  !  All  these  things 
are  an  "  abomination  to  me,  saith  the  Lord." 


XV. 

THE  JUDGMENT. 

When  the  Son  of  ina7i  shall  come  in  his  glory  ^  and  all  the  holy 
atigels  with  him,  then  shall  he  sit  tipon  the  throne  of  his 
glory,  a?td  before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  ?tations,  etc. —  Matt. 
XXV.  31-46. 

A  PICTURE  of  judgment.  Who  is  the  Judge?  The 
Son  of  man.  Especial  emphasis  is  given  to  the 
fact  that  he  is  to  be  the  Judge  of  the  world.  "  For 
the  Father  judgeth  no  man,  but  hath  committed  all 
judgment  unto  the  Son."  A  broad  commission  !  And 
the  Son  of  man  claims  to  be  v^orthy.  "  If  I  judge,  my 
judgment  is  true."  And  the  reason  given  is  his  human- 
ity. Here  is  the  express  announcement.  ''  The  Father 
hath  given  him  authority  to  execute  judgment  also,  be- 
cause he  is  the  Son  of  man."  I  do  not  know  any  fact 
more  striking.  As  ''judgment  "  means  to  test,  to  reveal, 
and  as  the  light  tests  or  reveals  the  darkness,  so  the 
perfect  human  glory  of  Christ  expresses  the  true  char- 
acter of  all  other  men,  and  thus  judges  them.  He  is, 
then,  not  merely  the  Judge  by  office  and  at  some  com- 
ing time,  but  he  is  by  what  he  is,  essentially  the  test 
of  men. 


THE  JUDGMENT.  1 45 

Is  not  every  noble  person  as  he  stands  before  our 
eyes  a  silent  reprover  of  the  base  and  an  approver  of 
the  noble?  Does  not  the  statue  of  the  Apollo  detect 
and  condemn  the  common  ugliness,  and  countenance 
the  fair  proportions  which  are  akin  to  itself?  So  Christ, 
and  even  while  on  earth  and  though  men  saw  him  with 
eyes  stupid  and  bleared  by  sin  and  sinful  prejudices,  yet 
enough  was  seen  to  attract  and  bring  out  the  good 
heart  and  expose  the  bad.  "  For  judgment,"  he  says, 
"  I  am  come  into  this  world."  Not  that  he  desired  or 
designed  to  condemn  the  world  ('*  I  came  not  to  con- 
demn ;  I  came  not  to  judge,"  as  he  frequently  declares)  ; 
but  the  testing,  the  judgment  of  which  I  speak,  was  an 
indisputable  fact  of  his  presence. 

And  this  judgment  of  the  world  has  gone  on  in- 
creasingly since.  The  more  Christ  is  known,  the  more 
utterly  the  false  ideals,  the  falsely  splendid  charac- 
teristics, and  all  the  meanness  and  sin  of  the  earth  are 
shown  and  put  to  shame.  He  stands  as  the  measure  and 
standard  of  all  the  generations  as  they  pass  by  him ;  as 
the  one  lawgiver,  so  also  the  one  perpetual  Judge. 

And  when  the  world  beholds  Christ  truly  (**  and 
every  eye  shall  see  him"),  the  full  sight  of  that  life  of 
his,  lived  out  in  circumstances  no  better  than  ours,  lived 
out  in  streets  and  houses  certainly  no  better  than  these, 
lived  out  in  an  experience  no  less  trying  certainly  than 
our  experience,  —  that  glory  of  humanity,  forged  in  the 
same  workshop  where  we  work,  will  exhibit  in  full  day- 
light the  possibilities  of  humanity,  and  fathom  the  depth 


146  THE  JUDGMENT. 

of  the  fault  in  all  our  race.  Beyond  this,  he  shows  what 
we  are,  not  merely  by  what  he  is  in  general,  but  by 
what  he  is  to  us.  When  the  world  comes  to  see  him  as 
its  redeemer,  as  one  who  aimed  to  rescue  and  uplift  it 
by  such  cost  and  sacrifice  to  himself,  the  fairest  image 
creation  ever  beheld  offering  himself  to  us  and  for  us, 
will  he  not,  if  he  is  once  seen  crowned  with  thorns  and 
with  the  blood  upon  his  body,  show  us  what  is  the 
blackness  of  our  cold  rejection  of  him;  tell  us  and  tell 
the  universe  just  what  manner  of  souls  we  are,  and  so, 
and  by  no  arbitrary  decision,  assign  us  our  place? 

But  it  is  his  direct  and  ofhcial  judgment  which  is  now 
properly  before  us.  And  as  to  that  I  assert  that  there 
is  not  in  the  Bible  a  more  profound  and  beautiful  fact 
than  the  selection  of  the  Son  of  man  for  the  Judge  of 
men.  Is  a  mere  man  fit?  An  angel?  God?  Neither. 
No  man,  no  angel :  nay,  nor  God  himself  For  the 
purposes  of  this  high  justice  to  come  demand  not  merely 
that  there  shall  be  justice  administered,  but  that  it  seems 
(to  us  and  to  all)  to  be  justice ;  the  clearness  and  im- 
pressiveness  of  the  justice  is  a  prime  point. 

Though  God  himself  is  an  infinitely  just  Judge,  is  the 
anticipation  of  his  judgment  by  such  a  race  as  ours  as 
clear  and  salutary  to  our  minds  as  when  we  anticipate  a 
judgment  by  the  Son  of  man?  If  an  invisible  and  in- 
comprehensible Being  is  to  judge  us,  **  whose  thoughts 
are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways," 
people  will  either  think  of  him  with  a  blind  dread  if  he 
is  supposed  to  be  just,  or  a  blind  assurance  and  ease  if 


THE  JUDGMENT.  1 47 

he  is  supposed  to  be  a  God  of  love.  So  on  the  one 
hand  whole  generations  of  men  formerly  turned  God 
into  a  monster  of  vengeance,  and  the  whole  world 
groaned  under  a  mere  brute  fear,  and  so  latterly  masses 
of  people  turn  him  into  a  monster  of  easiness.  As  to 
a  Being  so  vague  to  us  as  God  is,  of  whom  we  are  so 
ignorant,  if  the  human  mind  takes  one  direction,  say 
as  to  severity,  there  is  nothing  to  limit  it,  our  fears 
drive  us  on,  and  he  becomes  to  our  eyes  implacable; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  take  the  other  turn,  he 
becomes  so  placable  that  he  ceases  to  be  a  moral  Being 
at  all. 

But  as  to  the  Son  of  man,  it  is  impossible  from  igno- 
rance to  run  into  these  extremes ;  we  know  his  heart,  I 
think,  better.  We  have  seen  him  and  touched  him,  and 
we  know  how  solemn  the  depth  of  sin  is  to  him ;  that  he 
must  ever  turn  away  from  it  and  condemn  it,  we  see  by 
the  blood  upon  the  cross,  its  nature  and  its  results.  We 
see  by  what  he  was  —  one  unspeakably  '*  separate  from 
sinners "  —  that  there  must  be  an  everlasting  banish- 
ment of  sin,  yet  we  see  as  distinctly  a  mercy  which  will 
reach  us  and  forgive  us  so  long  as  we  can  be  reached 
and  forgiven ;  that  while  there  is  one  spot  of  life  in 
the  soul,  one  redeemable  centre,  one  wish  for  purity, 
one  longing  to  obey,  aught  akin  to  truth  and  Christ, 
so  long  that  Judge  will  not  irredeemably  cast  out;  so 
that  when  he  does  cast  out,  when  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  turned  from  any  creature,  when  the  wrath  of 
the  Lamb  begins  to  burn,  love  itself  approves  of  the 


148  THE  JUDGMENT. 

justice,  and  we  know  that  the  soul  is  only  fit  to  be  cast 
out  upon  the  refuse-heap  of  the  universe. 

Here,  then,  is  just  what  is  needed  and  all  that  is  needed 
in  the  Judge  of  the  human  race.  Think  of  Christ  for 
one  moment  as  not  divine ;  think  of  him  only  as  the 
purest,  wisest,  most  suffering,  and  most  generous  of  the 
sons  of  men,  —  that  he,  such  an  one,  our  own  brother, 
should  be  placed  on  the  throne  of  judgment  to  judge  us, 
is  the  most  consolatory  of  facts.  How  pitiful  and  gra- 
cious to  us  that  God  should  place  him  there !  How 
sure  we  are  of  all  consideration  from  him,  of  all  mercy 
that  is  mercy !  and  yet  no  false  indulgence,  no  immoral 
weakness,  for  he  is  also  the  Son  of  God,  calm  and  holy, 
of  *'  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity,"  and  whose 
justice  when  it  must  come  penetrates  the  heart  like  a 
sword  because  it  is  rendered  in  sorrow,  because  he  is 
one  who  weeps  over  the  city  he  is  about  to  destroy. 

If,  then,  he  condemns  me,  it  is  a  divine  condemna- 
tion ;  and  yet  he  will  not  condemn  me  if  he  can  save  me. 
The  Judge  as  he  sits  there  is  also  the  Saviour,  the  same 
heart;  redemption  is  his  aim,  judgment  only  the  neces- 
sity, and  if  this  be  a  redeemable  spirit  of  mine  he  will  be 
sure  to  find  it  out,  and  though  he  give  me  the  lowest 
place,  so  that  it  scarce  seems  heaven,  still  I  shall  stand 
far  distant  but  within  the  circle  of  the  saved  !  With 
these  views,  I  think  the  sight  of  the  future  judgment- 
seat  of  the  Son  of  man  a  sight  which  more  inwardly 
and  touchingly  ''  reforms  me  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and 
of  judgment"  than  any  other  sight,  if  I  except  the  sight 


THE  JUDGMENT,  1 49 

of  his  cross  !  It  was  fit,  then,  that  the  Father  should  give 
him  authority  to  execute  judgment  also,  because  he  is 
the  Son  of  man. 

As  to  the  circumstances  of  that  judgment,  perhaps 
there  is  nothing  in  all  which  the  genius  o(  man  has  pro- 
duced, equal  in  impressiveness  to  the  scriptural  descrip- 
tions of  judgment.  They  are  numerous  and  various; 
some  of  them  more  simple,  some  more  splendid,  but  all 
of  a  wonderful  moral  sublimity.  One  from  the  twentieth 
chapter  of  Revelation,  ''  And  I  saw  a  great  white 
throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth 
and  the  heaven  fled  away ;  .  .  .  and  I  sav/  the  dead,  small 
and  great,  stand  before  God;  and  the  books  were 
opened ;  .  .  .  and  they  were  judged  every  man  according 
to  their  works."  This  is  one  picture  of  that  great  trans- 
action. In  the  text  we  have  another,  in  the  simple, 
almost  homely  manner  of  the  Son  of  man ;  and  yet  it 
seems  to  me,  if  possible,  more  wonderful  than  the  other. 
All  such  representations  are  merely  accommodations  to 
the  human  mind.  But  if  we  consider  that  great  event 
(whether  gradual  or  on  some  one  day,  whether  public 
or  private)  merely  as  a  matter  of  the  soul  in  the  pres- 
ence of  its  Maker,  that  is  enough.  Once  illuminate  the 
spirit  with  a  sense  of  the  holiness  which  condemns,  or 
of  the  mercy  w^hich  saves,  and  all  outward  strength  be- 
comes nothing.  Or  take  these  awful  descriptions  and 
reverse  the  circumstances.  Instead  of  the  noise  and 
commotion  of  the  gathering  of  men  and  of  nations,  let 
there  be  simply  silence,  —  the  solitude  of  the  soul  with 


ISO  THE  JUDGMENT. 

itself  and  its  Judge;  instead  of  the  flashings  of  justice  like 
lightnings  from  the  east  to  the  west,  let  there  be  but 
the  clear  sight  of  facts,  and  we  have  the  Judgment! 

The  Test.  What  is  it?  *' I  was  an  hungered,  and 
ye  gave  me  meat:  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me 
drink:  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in:  naked, 
and  ye  clothed  me:  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me:  I 
was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me,"  —  that  is,  as  it  is 
explained,  "  inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 
The  spirit,  then,  which  is  made  the  test  of  judgment,  is 
what?  Does  it  mean  general  humanity  to  man?  for 
all  men  are  his  brethren.  I  think  it  does  not  ex- 
clude that  meaning,  but  that  it  means  primarily  and 
emphatically  sympathy  towards  those  who  are  like 
him,  not  necessarily  for  the  sake  of  him,  for  it  seems 
they  were  ignorant  of  any  reference  to  him  in  the 
transaction.  *'When  saw  we  thee  an  hungered,  or 
athirst,  or  a  stranger,  or  naked,  or  sick,  or  in  prison, 
and  did  not  minister  unto  thee?"  The  spirit  so  highly 
approved,  then,  so  far  as  I  can  discriminate,  is  appre- 
ciation of  and  sympathy  for  truly  right  people,  es- 
pecially when  in  distress.  I  do  not  say  for  Christian 
people,  for  that  is  confusing:  so  many  Christians  so 
called — yes,  quite  prominent  and  standard  Christians 
—  being  little  or  not  at  all  in  the  true  spirit  of  Christ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  some  I  think  who  have  never 
heard  of  Christ,  and  many  who  for  a  thousand  reasons 
never   formally  call   Christ   Lord,  being   still  in  some 


THE  JUDGMENT.  1 5  i 

real  sense  his,  —  his  genuine  brother  at  the  heart.  Now, 
love  of  such,  succoring  such,  is  a  certain  test  that  we 
are  of  such ;  for  our  appreciation  of  others  always 
reveals  what  we   are. 

Once  discover  what  a  man's  admirations  and  dis- 
gusts are,  and  you  measure  exactly  what  he  is.  If  he 
instinctively  turns  to  whatever  is  popular  and  pros- 
perous, and  regards  the  surface  only,  he  is  a  man  of  the 
surface ;  if  he  instinctively  bows  and  is  loyal  to  the  true 
man  and  the  true  thing,  no  matter  how  unpromising 
it  all  looks,  nay,  all  the  more  if  it  be  distressed  and 
outcast,  if  he  is  disgusted,  not  at  all  with  bad  fortune, 
but  only  with  the  mean  heart;  if  he  admires  and  his 
heart  rises  to  any  show  of  the  pure  and  beautiful  and 
heavenly  tempers  of  Christ;  if  he  recognizes  what  is 
really  high  and  what  is  really  low,  and  comes  forward  to 
take  up  the  truth  when  it  is  a  stranger  or  in  prison,  — 
that  man  has  the  approval  of  the  final  Judge. 

The  man  who  has  this  spirit,  though  he  be  ignorant, 
though  unfortunate  obstructions  keep  him  away,  has 
yet  the  seed  of  the  kingdom  within  him,  and  will 
gradually  and  in  better  circumstances  come  forward 
to  all  essential  truth  with  the  same  certainty  that  the 
plant  in  a  cell  of  darkness  sends  out  its  shoots  to  the 
light.  His  foundation  is  of  gold,  and  will  stand  when 
the  wood  and  hay  and  stubble  be  burned.  Yes,  the 
word  to  him  is,  "  Come ;  "  while  to  another,  covered 
over  perhaps  with  correct  doctrine,  and  saying,  ''  Lord, 
Lord,"  but  who  has  no  heart  in  his  bosom,  —  to  that 


152  THE  JUDGMENT. 

other  the  word  is,  "  Depart !  "     It  is  very  strange  that 
this  great  test  should  at  this  day  be  made  so  little  of. 

Common  humanity — humanity  to  man  as  human  — 
is  coming  to  be  with  the  world  at  large  the  only  test 
I  think  very  much  of  this  spirit  of  humanity  when 
pure  and  not  politic;  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  the 
fruits  of  Christ.  Certainly  it  is  a  far  better  test,  and 
will  stand  the  fire  far  better  than  many  of  the  accepted 
tests.  But  this  stream  cut  off  from  the  fountain  in 
which  it  originated  —  humanity  apart  from  Christ  —  I 
am  afraid  will  soon  run  impure  and  more  impure,  and 
will  at  last  dry  up.  And  certain  I  am  that  while 
Christ  may  be  said  to  be  the  author  of,  and  while 
Christianity  lives  at  the  base  of,  this  common  humanity, 
yet  the  thing  which  has  his  special  approval  is  far 
higher  than  that;  it  is  sympathy,  not  merely  with  man, 
but  with  those  who  are  like  him,  —  humanity  to  the 
sons  of  God.  The  gospel  is  no  leveller  of  men,  as 
this  age  aims  to  make  it.  Nowhere  do  I  find  such  a 
deep  discrimination,  such  a  deliberate  and  marked 
selection  of  a  class,  —  the  class  of  the  truly  noble. 
Christ  chooses  them,  sets  them  up,  and  makes  our 
own  characters  to  be  tried  by  the  love  and  homage 
we  pay  them.  This  seems  now  to  be  forgotten.  Let 
us  awake  to  it. 

Where  I  see  the  spirit  of  Christ,  let  me  deeply  bow 
down  to  it.  Where  I  see  a  man  doing  right  at  a  sac- 
rifice, steady  under  trials,  unselfish,  nay,  forgetful  of 
self,  wronging  no  man,  and  magnanimous  when   he  is 


THE  JUDGMENT.  1 5  3 

wronged;  just,  just  even  to  his  enemy;  merciful  of 
heart;  uninflated  with  absurd  vanities  and  foolish  self- 
estimations;  despising  shows  and  unawed  by  public 
opinion ;  a  man  who,  when  other  men  think  it  Chris- 
tian to  compromise  and  keep  quiet  and  side  with  the 
strong  is  then  only  more  terrible  and  inextinguishable 
against  wrong ;  a  man  who  with  all  this  is  grateful  and 
humble  and  resigned  to  his  Maker,  and  above  all 
who  turns  with  an  unspeakable  adoration  to  Christ  his 
Master,  —  this  man,  or  any  man  who  is  but  a  sketch 
and  rudiment  of  this,  if  I  see  him  and  do  not  know 
him,  love  him ;  if  I  see  him  ''  hungering "  and  give 
him  no  meat;  if  I  see  him  in  prison  and  come  not  unto 
him;  when  other  men  cast  out  his  name,  if  I  do  not 
pronounce  it,  —  then  I  am  but  a  poor  creature,  call  me 
what  you  will.  Loving  not  the  brother  of  Christ  whom 
I  have  seen,  I  do  not  —  how  can  I? —  love  and  honor 
Christ  whom  I  have  not  seen.  By  this  ladder  we 
ascend  to  God ;  loving  his  divine  image  in  the  creature 
as  the  reflection  of  stars  in  broken  and  turbid  water, 
we  rise  to  adore  the  direct  effulgence  of  the  heavenly 
lights. 

It  is  affecting  and  beautiful  that  the  Lord  of  all 
should  give  us  so  simple  and  easy  a  test  of  a  right 
heart.  He  did  not  treat  the  human  heart  as  many 
ancient  and  modern  theologians  have  treated  it,  by 
laying  heavy  burdens  upon  it  hard  to  be  borne,  mak- 
ing a  thousand  conditions,  applying  a  thousand  tests. 
He  reduces  religion,  for  our  comfort,  to  a  very  simple 


154  THE  JUDGMENT. 

thing,  —  loving  them  who  are  really  like  him ;  and  we 
will  succor  them  and  be  kind  to  them  for  the  sake 
of  him  who   succored   us  in  our  low  estate. 

Above  all,  let  us  pause  a  moment  at  the  fact  that 
he,  the  highest,  makes  himself  absolutely  one  with 
his  children.  ''I  was  hungry,  and  ye  gave  me  meat; 
I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink,"  etc.  He  thirsts 
with  the  thirst  of  his  meanest  and  lowest  brother;  he 
is  in  prison  and  a  stranger  with  him.  Therefore,  lift 
up  your  heads,  ye  weakest  strugglers  after  the  true 
life,  if  your  heart  be  right,  for  your  Lord  is  so  one 
with  you  that  if  you  bleed  he  bleeds ;  and  so  precious 
are  you,  that  the  whole  race,  kings  and  princes,  are 
to  be  judged  by  the  heart  they  have  towards  such  as 
you. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  Judge,  the  judgment,  and  one 
of  the  great  tests  of  judgment.  In  that  dread  judg- 
ment we  are  all  to  stand;  the  face  of  that  Judge  we 
must  behold;  we  near  it  daily;  we  shall  stand  before 
that  great  white  throne,  and  one  question  we  must  all 
answer, —  Did  you  love  the  Lord  Christ;  did  you 
honor  and  succor  him  whenever  you  saw  him  (under 
w^hatever  veils  of  poor  humanity)  ;  did  you  hold  out 
your  hands  to  him  and  bear  him  up?  If  so,  **  Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant;  enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord." 


XVI. 

THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART. 

Theji  ca7ne  to  him  the  mother  of  Zebedee's  childye7i^  ivorshippifig 
hi?n,anddesirijig  a  certam  thing  of  hi?n,  etc.  —  Matt.  xx.  20-28. 

nr^HIS  was  just  after  the  plaudits  and  high  demon- 
-*-  strations  which  the  festal  caravans  on  their  way 
to  Jericho  gave  to  Christ,  and  the  minds  of  the  dis- 
ciples were  naturally  excited  as  to  his  coming  great- 
ness, and  their  part  in  it.  He  himself  seemed  to 
confirm  their  material  conceptions.  "  Ye  are  they 
which  have  continued  with  me  in  my  temptations, 
and  I  appoint  unto  you  a  kingdom,"  etc. 

"And  he  said  unto  her,  What  wilt  thou?  She 
saith  unto  him,  Grant  that  these  my  two  sons  may 
sit,  the  one  on  thy  right  hand,  and  the  other  on 
thy  left,  in  thy  kingdom."  That  is,  they  request 
that  the  first  position  of  dignity  and  power  may  be 
theirs. 

In  justice,  this  was  not  entirely  ambition.  Remem- 
ber who  they  were,  —  James  and  John.  The  best  af- 
fections at  once  heightened  and  excused  the  selfish 
desire.  So  often  our  passions  "  take  the  livery  of 
Heaven  to  serve  the  Devil  in."  Especially  is  it  true, 
that  (as  to  the  mother)   parental  affection  and  house- 


156         THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART. 

hold  ties  often  in  a  thousand  ways  foster  selfishness 
to  those  without,  quite  in  contrast  to  the  beautiful 
Roman  tale  of  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi. 

"  But  Jesus  answered  and  said,  Ye  know  not  what 
ye  ask."  Ye  know  not  what  dignity  it  is ;  nor  the  way. 
Ye  are  not  aware  that,  like  the  child  which  stretches 
towards  the  splendid  blaze,  ye  are  reaching  out  for 
a  consuming  fire.  Nor  (seeing  that  ye  seek  this  as 
a  personal  favor)  are  ye  aware  of  the  fine  laws  of 
justice,  which  are  my  Father's  will,  and  which  assign 
each  man  his  place  apart  from  all  favoritism  or  per- 
sonal relations  to  me.  So  that  rank  *'  is  not  mine  to 
give,  but  it  shall  be  given  to  them  for  whom  it  is 
prepared  of  my  Father."  Ye  know  nothing  of  the 
whole. 

But  after  this  general  assertion  of  their  ignorance 
and  folly,  he  being  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  magni- 
tude of  his  own  coming  sufferings,  and  knowing  what 
that  dignity  they  sought  to  share  would  cost  them, 
seems  to  concentrate  his  surprise  chiefly  there,  and 
asks,  as  if  the  question  admitted  of  no  reply,  and 
would  test  and  settle  the  whole  matter,  ''  Are  ye 
able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,  and 
to  be  baptized  with  the  baptism  that  I  am  baptized 
with?     They  say  unto  him.  We  are  able," 

An  astonishing  reply!  False  self-reliance  is  in  re- 
ligion, and  even  in  Hfe,  weakness;  while  yet  mighty 
things,  at  least  in  this  world's  affairs,  are  effected  by 
**We  are  able."    Yet   even   here,    as   Lord   Bacon  re- 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART.         l^-J 

marks,  "  A  man  is  raised  up  and  made  more  successful 
who  feels  himself  in  the  care  of  the  higher  powers. 
Sylla  chose  the  name  of  Felix,  and  not  that  of 
Magnus ;  and  it  hath  been  noted  that  those  who  as- 
cribe openly  too  much  to  their  own  wisdom  or  policy 
commonly  end  unfortunate."  It  is  written  that  Ti- 
motheus  the  Athenian,  in  giving  a  public  account  of 
his  services  to  the  State,  having  used  the  words, 
"  and  in  this,  fortune  or  the  gods  had  no  part,"  never 
prospered  in  anything  he  undertook  afterwards.  And 
we  see  ourselves  that  even  the  men  most  self-relying, 
and  with  a  magnificent  sense  of  personal  power,  such 
as  Napoleon,  where  they  had  no  other  religion,  sus- 
tained themselves  by  a  deep  confidence  in  a  mys- 
terious agent  which  they  called  Fate.  Still,  no  one 
can  deny  that  the  feeling,  "  We  are  able,"  is  often 
sublime  when  man  combats  with  Nature  or  with  man. 
When,  however,  his  self-reliance  is  as  to  his  virtue  or 
religion,  it  is  a  shameful  weakness  compared  to  the 
power  which  comes  into  him  through  resting  upon 
God.  The  same  great  writer,  in  his  Essay  on  Athe- 
ism, has  this  fine  passage:  "To  be  without  God  de- 
stroys our  power;  for,  take  an  example  of  a  dog, 
and  mark  what  generosity  and  courage  he  will  put 
on  when  he  finds  himself  maintained  by  a  man,  who 
is  to  him  instead  of  a  God,  or  higher  nature.  So 
man,  when  he  resteth  and  assureth  himself  upon  di- 
vine protection  and  favor,  gathereth  a  force  and  faith 
which  human  nature  in  itself  could  not  attain."     And 


158         THE  EXALTATION  OF   THE  HEART. 

I  may  add  here  that  this  resting  upon  what  is  divine, 
whether  upon  God  as  our  author  or  upon  God  as 
our  Saviour,  is  the  eminent  peculiarity  of  the  gos- 
pel, —  is  that,  in  fact,  which  distinguishes  it  as  a  spirit- 
ual system,  so  that  the  gospel  may  be  described  in 
one  word  as  God-reliance  or  Christ-reliance,  not  self- 
reliance. 

Granting,  then,  that  much  of  a  weak  self-confidence 
marked  the  answer  of  the  sons  of  Zebedee,  yet  their 
spirit,  though  it  needed  chastening  and  humbling,  was 
marked  by  a  devotion  which  made  all  things  seem 
possible  to  them.  There  was  an  affection  and  aban- 
donment of  self,  under  all  their  presumption,  which 
endeared  them  to  the  Lord;  for  not  the  faultless 
people,  coldly  correct,  are  so  prized  by  him  as  the 
warm  though  often  foolish  heart;  as  in  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, not  any  faultless  model,  but  the  warm-hearted 
David.  Viewed  on  this  side,  we  could  wish  no  better 
wish  for  the  Christian  Church  and  all  its  members 
than  such  heartiness.  *'  We  can  do  all  things,"  adding, 
however,  ''  through  Christ  strengthening  us." 

So  much  for  them.  And  now  as  to  Him.  At  the 
first  hearing  of  their  request  his  feeling  was  simple 
amazement.  There  is  observable  in  him  a  sense  of 
the  endless  distance  between  him  and  them.  You 
drink  such  a  cup  !  Knowing  them,  and  the  little  frail 
human  heart  in  them;  knowing  the  fathomless  depth 
of  his  own  sorrows  and  exigencies,  the  fathomless 
depth  of  the  holy  will,  and  the  holy,  filial  trust  that 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART.         1 59 

were  in  him,  —  so  deep  that  the  infinite  of  trial  was 
met  as  if  by  a  deeper  infinite  of  submission  and  pure 
obedience,  —  comparing,  I  say,  these  poor,  ignorant 
children  of  the  earth,  who  thirsted  to  share  his  throne, 
with  the  character  and  awful  history  necessary  to  reach 
it,  we  can  conceive  the  feeling,  "  Are  j/^  able?  " 

But  when  they  look  up  to  him  and  say,  in  their  pre- 
sumptive but  simple-hearted  confidence,  '*  We  are  able," 
a  change  like  lightning  seems  to  pass  through  his  whole 
consciousness;  he  remembers  that  they  too,  in  their 
measure,  will  indeed  share  his  cup.  They  are  poor,  igno- 
rant children;  but  then,  they  are  his  children,  and  he 
knows  they  will  be  faithful  and  affectionate  unto  death. 
And  then  he  adds  in  a  deep  and  tender  tone,  *'  Ye  shall 
drink  indeed  of  my  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  the 
baptism  that  I  am  baptized  with,"  adding,  however,  that 
rank  in  his  kingdom  was  not  to  be  dispensed  capri- 
ciously, or  by  personal  favor,  but  according  to  his 
Father's  will,  —  that  will  which  was  all  justice  and  all 
insight,  and  on  which  rested  all  law. 

Consider  together  the  two  expressions,  **  Can  ye  drink 
of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of  ?  "  and,  ''  Ye  shall  drink 
indeed  of  my  cup."  As  I  have  already  intimated,  they 
mean  much  as  if  he  had  said,  "  I  admit  you  shall  share 
with  me  trials,  in  order  to  conquest,  —  that,  indeed,  is 
yours,  —  but  I  have  a  cup  to  drink  that  ye  know  not  of; 
when  I  tread  the  wine-press  alone,  of  the  people  there 
shall  be  none  with  me." 

Now,  here  are  indicated  two  of  the  greatest  ideas  of 


100         THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART. 

Christianity,  and  which  run  all  through  it;  namely,  that 
we  are  as  if  one  with  the  divine  Lord,  that  '*  as  he  is, 
so  are  we  in  this  world,"  and  yet,  that  he  transcends 
and  passes  out  of  our  experience.  On  the  one  hand, 
that  our  cup  is  as  his  cup ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  that 
our  cup  is  not  as  his  cup. 

It  is  true  that  like  him  we  are  set  forth  to  be  purified 
through  suffering,  and  that  the  history  of  every  faithful 
man  is  the  history  of  Jesus  Christ  over  again.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  animating  and  uplifting  truths  of  the 
gospel.  But  it  is  also  true  that  in  him  there  is  a 
superhuman  singularity  of  character,  a  transcendence, 
a  privacy  of  work,  of  suffering,  and  of  destiny. 

There  is  a  cup  of  which  no  man  has  drunk,  ''  save 
him  who  once  tasted  of  death  for  every  man."  And  if 
this  be  true,  then  if  any  man  claims  to  have  himself 
drunk  of  that  cup,  and  to  have  gone  down  into  that 
mysterious  baptism,  —  claims,  "  I  am  able,"  that  is,  that 
he  is  his  own  Saviour  (and  there  are  not  a  few  of  such 
in  all  churches),  I  have  no  quarrel  with  him  further 
than  to  say  that  I  regret  he  can  spare  a  Saviour,  as 
many  of  us  feel  we  cannot,  and  that  if  we  are  to  be  the 
Saviours  of  ourselves,  our  hope  goes  out,  and  the  very 
light  in  the  heavens  grows  dark. 

"  And  when  the  ten  heard  it,  they  were  moved  with 
indignation  against  the  two  brethren."  I  have  no  doubt 
they  felt  it  a  just  and  virtuous  indignation,  and  so  most 
people  do  who  read  the  narrative.  But  here  speak  out, 
I  think,   envy  and  discontent,  which  are  but  reversed 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART.         l6l 

forms  of  the  same  ambition.  "  They  were  moved  with 
indignation  "  that  these  two  aspired  above  them,  which 
in  reahty  was  the  same  spirit,  though  in  less  degree 
than  that  at  which  they  were  indignant.  And  so  it  is 
not  uncommonly.  Our  dislikes  and  hatreds  of  other 
people  —  nay,  even  our  most  righteous  indignations  — 
are  often  against  conduct  which,  with  a  little  difference 
of  shading,  is  just  our  own.  We  are  engaged  in  pulling 
out  the  motes  from  other  people's  eyes,  while  the  beam 
is  in  our  own.  And  what  a  sight  it  must  be  to  any 
vision  which  can  see  better  than  ours  the  proud  assump- 
tions, the  intense  contempt,  the  standing  apart,  like  the 
Pharisee,  when  essentially  the  same  low  feelings  are 
prevailing  with  all,  the  accuser  as  with  the  accused. 
*'  The  ten  were  moved  with  indignation." 

The  Lord  meets  this  anger,  not  indeed  with  rebuke, 
for  he  was  sparing  of  rebuke,  but  by  teaching  that 
which,  while  it  quieted  their  anger,  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  entirely  better  thoughts.  ''  Jesus  called  them 
unto  him,  and  said,  Ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the 
Gentiles  exercise  dominion  over  them,  and  they  that 
are  great  exercise  authority  upon  them.  But  it  shall 
not  be  so  among  you ;  but  whosoever  is  great  among 
you,  let  him  be  your  minister,  and  whosoever  will  be 
chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant."  That  is, 
he  allows  the  human  ambition  for  excellence  and 
elevation,  but  just  changes  the  whole  thing  aimed 
for.  Be  ambitious,  not  to  get,  however,  but  to  give; 
not   to    be    lording,    as   the    Gentiles,  but   ministering. 

II 


l62  THE  EXALTATION  OF   THE  HEART. 

Aim  for  dignities,  but  the  dignities  of  lowliness.  Not 
the  dignities  of  pride  and  selfishness,  but  the  dignities 
which  consist  in  generosity,  and  which  will  take  the 
place  of  a  servant  if  it  can  confer  a  benefit,  rather 
than  of  a  king  to  exact  a  service.  "  For  [he  con- 
cluded] even  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  min- 
istered unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a 
ransom  for  many."  The  kingship,  even  of  the  High- 
est, was  not  to  sit  down  upon  a  throne,  selfishly  im- 
posing his  will  on  all  beneath,  but  to  stand,  as  the 
minister,  servant,  or  even  slave  (as  the  word  means), 
to  stand  as  the  mighty  slave  of  Love ;  giving,  giving, 
until  he  gave  even  himself —  that  is,  his  life  —  "a  ran- 
som for  many."  That  is  to  be  the  style  of  the  new 
kingdom. 

In  this  little  speech  is  the  reversal  of  all  the  master- 
ideas  of  the  race,  their  overthrow,  down  even  to  the 
roots.  It  is  the  far-ofi*  announcing  of  the  final  judg- 
ment of  '*  contempt  and  hissing  "  upon  the  whole  king- 
dom of  selfishness,  from  its  "  turrets  to  its  foundation- 
stone." 

Having  completed  the  narrative,  I  will  dwell  on  two 
thoughts, — how  greatness  is  to  be  reached,  and  what 
the  greatness  is. 

Greatness  is  to  be  reached  through  tried  character, 
by  a  soul  formed  in  the  fires.  Ye  sons  of  Zebedee, 
who  seek  to  share  my  throne  with  me,  do  you  know 
what  it  is  to  share  that  with  me?  It  presupposes  and 
demands  a  history  and  a  character,  a  cup  and  a  bap- 


THE  EXALTATION  OF   THE  HEART  1 63 

tism.  Can  you  share  these  with  me?  Exigency  and 
sorrow  are  the  stuff  out  of  which  the  first  Son  worked 
his  sonship  to  God ;  and  so,  after  him  and  through 
him,  must  all  other  sons,  even  we.  And  from  this, 
and  this  alone,  all  sitting  upon  thrones  must  come  at 
last.  The  sonship  of  God  is  created,  as  all  fine  things 
are  created,  through  opposition.  All  life,  even  up  to 
soul,  is  created  through  what  resists  it.  In  the  first 
and  lowest  appearance  of  life  in  Nature  we  see  it 
forcing  the  hard  substance  of  the  rocks  into  moss 
and  lichens,  and  making  flowers  out  of  flint.  And 
so  up  to  soul.     This  is  the  law. 

But  the  last  point  I  wish  to  fix  attention  upon  is 
the  nature  of  the  greatness  man  is  appointed  to  reach. 
Man  is  not  nearly  so  different  from  the  lower  animals 
as  Christ's  idea  of  greatness  is  different  from  man's. 
His  thoughts  and  feelings  are  those  of  a  distinct  order 
of  being.  Nay,  not  merely  different,  but  precisely 
opposite.  He  turns  the  lower  pole  to  the  top.  The 
dominion  of  me  upon  you,  the  superiority  of  me  to 
you,  —  that  is  man's  idea.  *'  Ye  know  that  the  princes 
of  the  Gentiles  exercise  dominion  over  them,  and  they 
that  are  great  exercise  authority  upon  them  [the 
idea  is  of  a  power  above  imposing  its  will  upon  what 
is  below].  But  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you."  That 
is,  your  greatness  consists  in  descending  through  love 
down  from  the  throne  to  the  ground,  in  yielding  your 
will  to  the  will  of  God  and  to  the  good  of  man;  in 
emptying  the  soul  of  self,  of  its  will,  of  its  demands, 


l64         THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART. 

and   being,    henceforth,    not    one   that   takes,    but   one 
that  gives. 

This,  which  is  the  most  original  and  revolutionary 
thought  the  world  has  heard  or  can  hear,  was  elicited, 
how?  Why,  just  as  we  see  that  Christ's  heavenly 
ideas  were  usually  elicited,  —  by  some  folly  or  sin  of 
the  common  men  about  him,  as  a  glancing  light  struck 
out  of  some  dark  and  passing  cloud.  Instead  of  God's 
coming  forth  from  the  cope  of  the  sky,  and  with  a 
great  noise  announcing  his  idea  of  greatness  to  the 
listening  kings  of  the  earth,  these  great  words  are 
spoken  with  quiet  simplicity,  on  occasion  of  the  fool- 
ish thoughts  of  two  young  fishermen  and  their  mother, 
—  words  which  have  leavened  and  are  leavening  the 
lump  of  the  world,  moulding  slowly,  but  moulding 
surely,  the  hearts  of  the  human  race,  and  drawing 
out,  as  by  an  almighty  power,  the  very  tap-root  of 
all  human  delusions,  drawing  it  as  if  out  of  the  very 
bowels  of  the  earth. 

As  to  this  great  idea  itself,  kingship  is  service,  and 
the  first  king  is  he  who  is  most  entirely  a  servant. 
That  sounds  disagreeably  enough ;  but  what  is  it  ? 
Merely  that  selfishness,  however  grand  it  makes  itself 
to  look,  and  however  much  spoil  it  has  gathered 
around  itself,  and  whatever  the  crowns  it  puts  upon 
its  head,  is  not  the  true  king.  But  that  disinterested- 
ness is  the  true  king,  though  it  be  deposed  and 
covered  with  rags. 

This,   when    it   was   taught,    was   the    most    original 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  THE  HEART,         1 65 

thing  ever  uttered  as  a  principle  for  the  world.  For 
the  nations  so  far  had  even  no  sense  that  selfishness 
was  sin,  or  disinterestedness  was  virtue.  They  had 
their  vices  and  virtues,  of  course,  but  these  were  not 
among  them.  Yet  these,  according  to  their  new 
Teacher,   included  all  the   rest. 

Original  and  grand  as  this  then  was,  it  is  hardly 
less  so  now.  We  have  indeed  grown  up  to  a  sense 
of  the  immorality  of  selfishness.  We  have  some 
glimpse  that  Christian  charity  ascends  above  Roman 
and  Greek  virtue  and  Jewish  duty;  but  until  to-day 
these  words,  which  make  it  identical  with  all  loftiness, 
and  its  opposite  selfishness  identical  Avith  all  base- 
ness, —  this  fact,  that  it  puts  the  poor  laborer,  who  is 
in  the  spirit  of  Christ,  on  the  highest  throne,  and 
puts  down  the  most  towering  king  from  his  seat,  and 
puts  him  in  the  dust  and  ashes,  this  is  yet  far  before 
us,  though  we  admit  it  in  words.  We  know  not  yet 
the  meaning  of  Christ,  but  we  shall  know  it  here- 
after, —  nay,  that  this  Christian  disinterestedness  (call 
it  charity)  included  not  only  all  old  virtues,  but  quite 
a  new  region  and  sphere  of  virtues,  which  is  to  the 
old   as  heaven  to  earth. 

What  is  the  man  but  his  soul,  and  what  is  the  baseness 
of  the  soul  but  its  selfishness,  and  what  its  dignity  but 
its  generosity?  Is  there  anything  detestable  but  selfish- 
ness in  all  its  disgusting  forms  of  pride,  and  vanity,  and 
conceit,  and  mean  ambition,  and  envies,  and  hates,  and 
treacheries,  and  cruelties?      Is  that  a  king?     Is  not  that 


l66  THE  EXALTATION  OF   THE  HEART 

a  slave?  And  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  be  above  barba- 
rians, is  there  anything  worthy  of  our  admiration  and 
enthusiasm  but  the  soul  which  has  sunk  self  and  glows 
in  devotion  to  something  else? 

What  is  the  Godhead  of  God  himself  but  this  spirit? 
The  one  King  Eternal  and  Immortal,  the  one  Lawgiver 
is  himself  Z^z^^/  and  he  who  appeared  to  show  him  to 
our  eyes,  appeared,  not  ministering  to  himself,  but  was 
in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  died  in  an  act  of  ser- 
vice. And  is  it  not  true  that  so  far  as  any  creature 
approaches  that,  has  received  that  spirit,  so  far  he  par- 
takes of  the  kingliness  of  the  Divine  Nature?  Yes, 
faithful  to-day  "  in  few  things,"  his  Lord  one  day  will 
make  him  "  ruler  over  many  things." 

These  are  laws,  not  fancies.  "  Know  you  not,"  says 
the  great  apostle,  "that  you  shall  judge  angels?"  He 
meant  something.  If  we  wished  proof  that  disinter- 
estedness is  the  secret  beauty  and  secret  elevation  of 
heaven  and  of  earth,  the  proof  is  that,  we  ourselves 
being  judges,  when  we  see  it  as  it  was  in  Jesus  Christ, 
it  stands  forth  evidently  divine,  even  to  us,  and  we  cry 
out  at  once  that  God  has  been  among  us,  and  in  some 
sense  all  men  join  in  the  cry. 

Rejoice,  then,  in  the  soul  which  God  has  put  within 
you.  If  you  have  in  your  heart  but  one  gleam  of 
Christ's  pity,  self-sacrifice,  and  munificence,  rejoice  in 
that,  for  that  begins  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  He  who 
seizes  the  just  view  of  the  temper  of  the  King  of  kings, 
he  who  delights  in  that,  takes  that  as  his  portion,  while 


THE  EXALTATION  OF   THE  HEART.         167 

he  can  believe  and  must  believe  that  that  spirit  which 
God  puts  in  him  is  the  loftiest  reality,  the  imperial  fact, 
and  that  it  is  fit  and  prepared  for  any  outward  throne ; 
yet  he  can  believe  this  without  disturbance,  for  in  the 
reality  he  possesses  he  has  lost  the  taste  for  vulgar 
shadows,  and  would  put  by  all  sceptres  as  playthings, 
unless  through  them  he  could  better  reach  some  high 
end  of  the  heart.  He  can  ever  feel  (as  Jeremy  Taylor 
writes)  that  ''  his  crowns  and  sceptres  spring  from 
crosses ;  "  that  it  is  the  cross  which  is  the  glory.  As 
the  cross  stands  wrought  on  the  top  of  the  globes  and 
sceptres  of  earthly  kings,  and  gives  them  all  their  glory, 
so  much  more  of  his.  But  however  poorly  we  from  our 
weakness  may  be  able  to  combine  the  consciousness  of 
lowliness  with  elevation,  let  us  remember  always  that 
there  stands  before  our  eyes,  for  our  imitation,  a  being 
who  was  at  once  and  naturally  ''  the  meek  and  lowly," 
while  yet  wearing  ''  on  his  head  many  crowns,"  whose 
consciousness  of  height  did  not  impair  his  modesty,  nor 
his  lowliness  check  an  unbounded  sense  of  his  dignity. 

Be  more  like  Christ,  and  then,  in  your  consciousness 
of  oneness  with  the  pure  and  eternal  spirit,  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  some  share  in  that  divine  heart  which 
loves  and  gives,  and  claims  nothing,  and  which  will 
go  through  Gethsemane  or  Calvary  on  its  errands  of 
j^grcy,  —  in  that  you  will  know  that  you  are  a  son 
and  heir  of  the  Highest;  and  that  there  is  but  one 
exaltation,  that  of  the  heart. 


XVII. 

THE   GODLIKENESS   OF  MAN. 

So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  created 
he  him.  —  Gen.  i.  27. 

ALL  the  false  religions  and  all  the  false  practical 
ideals  of  the  world  are  just  the  reversing  of  this. 
Those  great  ideas  in  the  Bible  that  there  is  one  perfect 
divine  Being,  God,  and  that  man  is  formed  in  his  image, 
and  through  all  disasters  is  to  be  re-formed  into  that 
image,  —  these  two  ideas  alone  are  the  seed-principles 
of  an  ever-unfolding  and  transcendent  revelation  from 
the  Creator  to  the  creature. 

The  depth  of  significance  in  the  one  statement  now 
before  us  that  man  is  made  in  the  image  of  God  can 
never  be  exhausted.  To  develop  the  meaning  of  it,  to 
discover  this  likeness  in  all  its  particulars,  to  realize  the 
fact  further  and  still  further  in  new  depths  of  our  won- 
derful being,  —  this  will  be  the  history,  I  may  say  the 
only  history  of  the  spirit  through  eternity. 

I  believe  this  fact  to  be  much  more  astonishing  than 
is  generally  thought.  Observe  the  high  emphasis  with 
which  it  is  stated.  "  And  God  said,  Let  us  make  man 
in  our  image,  and  in  our  likeness,  and  let  him  have  domin- 
ion.   So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image 


THE  GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN.  1 69 

of  God  created  he  him."  After  finishing  the  wonderful 
work  of  creation,  the  whole  of  which  may  itself  be  said 
to  be  a  stupendous  image  of  the  unseen  spirit,  in  infinite 
shadow,  cast  from  his  being;  after  bringing  out  the 
endless  hosts  of  the  heavens  and  earth,  an  infinitude,  an 
abyss  of  wisdom,  —  after  this  the  Great  Creating  Power 
pauses,  and  designs  a  new  and  extraordinary  creation, 
and  as  if  nothing  had  yet  been  done  in  all  the  splendors 
of  the  fresh  universe  which  shone  and  flamed  with  God, 
as  if  nothing  had  been  done  to  exhibit  the  pattern  of  the 
invisible  spirit,  "  God  said.  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image, 
after  our  likeness."  Amazing,  inconceivable  work  !  If 
all  this  is  as  if  no  image,  what  is  that  to  be  which  is  to 
come  forth  as  indeed  the  image  of  God  ?  It  was  to  be  — 
Man !     "  So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image." 

I  do  not  know  how  it  can  be  that  the  infinite  Eternal 
One,  whose  peculiar  name  was  *'  Je-ho-vah,"  the  one  that 
is  the  *'  I  am,"  the  Being,  a  name  or  a  description  which 
while  it  asserts  all  reality  of  him  denies  and  shuts  out 
all  attempts  at  conception,  simply  responding  to  inquiry, 
*'  I  am,"  —  I  know  not,  I  say,  how  this  awful  unknown 
one  whose  secret  can  never  be  penetrated,  whose  nature 
could  not  be  described  or  expressed,  could  set  forth 
man  as  the  likeness  or  description  of  himself.  But  it  is 
so.  He  is  represented  as  a  new  creation,  not  of  or  a 
part  of  the  other  creation,  but  made  after  it,  and  made 
for  the  express  purpose  of  imaging  God. 

If  this  be  so,  our  first  natural  thought  is,  that  we 
must  expect  to  find  that  God,  in  every  respect  of  which 


I/O  THE  GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN. 

we  can  think  of  him,  has  a  wonderful  reflection  of  him- 
self in  us,  a  wonderful  reflection  of  every  characteristic, 
—  a  reflection,  to  be  sure,  as  of  the  sun  and  of  the 
whole  sky  in  a  bit  of  broken  glass  or  in  a  drop  of 
water,  still  a  reflection.     And  it  is  so. 

What  a  glorious  image  of  his  eternity  is  there  in  the 
endless  life  of  the  human  soul,  —  that  immortality  which 
shall  be  fresh  when  the  newest  star  shall  fade,  and  be- 
fore whose  unshaken  existence  this  creation  or  a  thou- 
sand such  yet  to  come  forth  shall  pass  away  as  the 
morning  mists  from  the  summits  of  the  hills !  Do 
you  think  that  a  mean  image  of  the  eternity  of  God? 
It  is  the  fashion  of  many  minds,  and  perhaps  the  preva- 
lent one  now,  from  a  false  humility  or  a  false  philoso- 
phy, practically  to  make  light  of  the  image  of  God  in 
man.  But  it  is  too  grand  and  solemn  a  heritage  to 
be  slighted,  and  I  am  not  willing  to  believe  that  he 
who  with  such  form  and  deliberation  has  made  man 
to  be  in  his  own  image  has  failed,  or  has  met  with 
inconsiderable  success. 

Think  of  any,  even  of  what  theologians  call  the  "  in- 
communicable," attributes  of  God  (for  my  part  I  think 
there  is  no  one  of  the  characteristics  of  his  adorable 
nature  more  incommunicable  than  another :  in  a  sense 
they  are  all  communicable ;  in  another  sense,  none  of 
them  are  so,  but  only  the  images  or  analogies  of  them)  ; 
but  look,  I  say,  to  any,  even  of  the  highest  attributes 
of  the  divine  nature,  —  his  omniscience,  for  example,  — 
that  he  is  the  universal  day  to  which  the  light  of  knowl- 


THE   GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN.  171 

edge  in  the  soul  of  any  man  is  indeed  but  as  a  few  rays 
from  that  day  struggHng  through  a  crevice  into  the  nar- 
row and  dark  room  of  the  human  spirit.     Here,  to  be 
sure,  is  not  hkeness  but  endless  unlikeness,  —  man  not  in 
the  image  of  God.     This  is,  however,  but  one  aspect  of 
it.   Consider  what  a  sublime  thing  it  is  to  have  conscious 
intelligence  at  all.     *'  Man  is  a  reed,  but  he  is  a  think- 
ing reed,"  says  Pascal.     And  that  one  difference  places 
him  out  of  brotherhood  with  the  whole  universe,  and 
places  it  far  below  his  feet,  and  it  leaves  him  no  place 
or  kin  in  the  creation  unless  in  alliance  with  God  and 
those  like  God.     And  when   you   think  that  this  holy 
spirit  is  so  bounded  and  shut  within  his  little  tabernacle 
of  clay,  cabined,  confined,  hemmed  in,  you  may  be  even 
awed  by  the  force  and   reach  of  his  thought,  and  that 
from  its   prison  it  struggles   out   Into  such  likeness  to 
divine  intelligence.     Not  born,  it  seems,  for  one  planet 
or  for  one  range,  this  light  follows  the  shining  footprints 
of  the  creating  God  wherever  they  appear,  and  has  built 
up  for  himself  that  enormous  and  complicated  mass  of 
mental  achievement  which  we  call  our  civilization,  but 
which  deserves  to  be  called  man's  creation,  —  the  evi- 
dence not  only  of  his   perceiving,  but  of  his   forming 
power.     What  will  not  such  a  power  achieve  when  eter- 
nity Is  given  to  It  for  its  growing-time,  infinity  for  its 
sphere,  and  freedom  from  this  small  organism  of  the 
body  into  a  spiritual  liberty  shall  be  its  condition  and 
state !     Who  shall  fix  the  bounds  of  the  circle  it  will 
describe?     Reflecting  thus,  we  cannot  hold  in  contempt 


172  THE   GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN. 

the  fact  that  in  man  is  also  an  image,  if  only  an  image, 
of  the  divine  omniscience  itself. 

Or  take  again  the  incomprehensible  statement  that 
God  exists  everywhere.  Have  these  thoughts  and  sym- 
pathies of  ours  which  already  can  realize  and  hold 
before  our  consciousness  beings  most  numerous,  places 
most  remote,  —  this  soul,  whose  duty  and  power  it  is  to 
be  in  communion  with  all  that  is  holy  everywhere  in 
heaven  or  on  earth,  in  past  ages  or  in  the  present  or 
in  the  time  to  come,  which  lives  in  the  communion  of 
the  saints,  and  is  now  already  come  to  Mount  Zion,  — 
is  there  in  this  not  at  least  a  fine  shadow  of  the  paternal 
image,  which  in  its  all-spreading  presence  communes 
at  once  with  all  that  it  has  made? 

Or  look  again  at  the  creating  power;  is  there  nothing 
in  what  man  does  even  like  to  this,  even  like  the  actings 
of  that  Being  who  made  from  chaos  this  most  beautiful, 
and  I  might  call  it  harmonious  arrangement  of  things? 
For  what  is  this  which  we  call  civilization  but  man's 
creation,  man's  world  built  upon  God's  world,  —  whence 
is  it  but  from  man's  creating  ideas  shaping  out  of  a 
savage  crowd  a  world  of  society  and  state,  shaping  a 
world  of  religion  and  thought  and  science  out  of  him- 
self and  out  of  his  earth,  shaping  a  world  of  beautiful 
things  and  useful  things  out  of  the  rude  heap  he  finds, 
—  in  all  these  wondrous  workings,  to  be  sure  divinely 
inspired  or  divinely  directed,  but  yet  always  a  ''  co- 
worker with  God,"  and  the  result  an  actual  globe  apart, 
a  world    of  its    own    peculiar   nature,    built    from   the 


THE   GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN.  1/3 

thought  of  man  as  the  worlds  issued  from  the  thought 
of  God,  and  exhibiting  in  little  a  beautiful  image  of  the 
great  creating  attributes?  Some  image,  then,  of  the 
whole  of  God  is  to  be  found  within  us. 

But  it  was  in  the  sweetness  and  innocency  of  the 
moral  being  of  man  that  was  to  be  found  the  most 
beautiful  reflection  of  the  divine  image.  What  was 
the  precise  moral  state  of  the  first  human  being  it  is 
difficult  for  us  now  to  say.  There  ought  to  be  no 
doubt,  however,  among  intelligent  minds  that  the  first 
created  man  was  a  fresh  soul,  with  all  the  weakness  and 
temptableness  of  a  human  heart  and  human  passions, 
but  yet  unsoiled,  as  yet  a  happy  and  pure  spirit  in  a 
happy  and  pure  body,  breathing  naturally  a  childlike 
gratitude  to  the  Being  who  appeared  in  everything  as 
good  and  parental,  and  whose  benign  image  stood  about 
him  everywhere  in  this  new  world  on  which  his  eyes 
were  opened.  I  say  this  is  the  most  rational  view  of 
the  state  of  the  first  man,  apart  from  the  wonderful 
account  in  the  Book  of  Genesis.  And  how  sweet  a 
picture,  let  me  say,  is  all  that  divine  history  of  the  first 
days  of  man  as  the  son  of  God  !  It  is  quite  suitable  to 
our  ideas  as  wc  find  it  written  there,  that  at  this  period 
the  invisible  One  should  delight  in  some  suitable  shape 
to  appear  and  talk  with  man  as  with  his  friend.  For 
the  first  man,  though  an  innocent  and  noble  creature, 
was  yet  ignorant  and  weak;  and  it  is  not  only  most 
beautiful  to  the  imagination,  but  seems  a  truthful  pic- 
ture of  facts,  that  at  the  first  coming  of  the  sun,  or  in 


174  THE   GODLIKENESS   OF  MAN, 

the  cool  of  the  day  when  the  wonderful  luminary  was 
sinking,  or  in  the  midst  of  the  silent  midnight  and  un- 
der the  shining  of  the  moon  or  of  the  more  solemn 
starlight,  — that  at  these  times,  or  when  there  appeared 
some  new  object  of  fear  or  wonder  or  delight  in  the  new 
universe,  it  was  natural  and  beautiful  and  true,  I  doubt 
not,  that  the  all-gracious  Parent  in  some  celestial  shape 
communed  with  the  first  man,  who  was  yet  a  child  with 
the  thought  of  a  child,  and  that  ''  solemn  troops  and 
sweet  societies  "  of  higher  creatures  were  glad  to  sur- 
round his  steps  and  supply  the  first  wants  of  a  being 
who  had  come  among  them  with  all  the  interest  and 
tenderness  which  an  infant  brings  into  a  household. 

But  this  innocent  image  of  God  was  but  for  a  mo- 
ment; man  by  transgression  fell,  and  his  childhood 
was  gone,  the  divine  simplicity  of  his  spirit  broken 
and  defaced.  But  does  the  great  history  of  the  image 
of  God  stop  here,  ending  in  sad  reverse  and  ruin 
upon  Adam   and   his   seed? 

No ;  the  fall  of  man  opens  a  new  and  grand  epoch 
in  the  history  of  God's  image  in  the  human  soul. 
The  creation  of  this  material  frame  was  finished  at 
the  beginning,  but  the  creation  of  the  spiritual  life  of 
man  is  a  progressive  act;  it  began  then,  only  to  be 
continued  and  expanded  in  a  grander  style  thereafter. 
The  fall  of  man,  the  loss  of  the  image  of  his  first 
innocence,  was  the  moral  chaos  out  of  which  he  calls 
forth  a  new  heavens  and  earth. 

Listen  to  this  wonder.     You  must  have  been  struck 


THE   GODLIKENESS   OF  MAN.  175 

with   the    sentence    spoken    by    God    after   the    fall    of 
man:    **  Man  is  become    as   one  of  us,  to  know  good 
'and  evil."     An   increase,  then,  in   the    image  of  God; 
an    awful    likeness    to    the    divine    nature   begun    even 
then  when  he   lost  his  innocence.      By  sin  he  gained 
the   (in  itself)  dreadful  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  — 
in  itself  an  unspeakable  loss,  an  unspeakable  fall ;   but 
made   by  the  divine  goodness  the   means,  the  founda- 
tion  on  which  a  new  and    incomparably  loftier    image 
of  the    divine   holiness   could   be   built    in    the    human 
spirit.     Even   by  the   fall   he  is  born   still   further  into 
the  image  of  God,  that  dark  descent  allowing  the  di- 
vine mercy  to  lay  deeper  foundations  and  broader  for 
a  new  building  of  the   divine  image.     While  man  lost 
that    innocence   which   was    a   sweet    reflection    of  the 
moral    purity  of  the  Godhead,  he   gained   by  the   en- 
largement of  his  experience,  and  I  might  almost  say 
an  enlargement  of  his  being,  the   means  or   condition 
of  building  up  a  new  and   higher  species  of  holiness, 
a  more    perfect   image  still  of  the  Divine  Being.     For 
he  who  has   fallen    into    the    mystery  of  evil,  if  he  be 
made    capable  of  rising   up    from   it,   knows    infinitely 
better   than    the    innocent   being   can    know  the    glory 
of  holiness,  acquires  in  that   returning   process    moral 
qualities   of  incomparably   more    energy.      But   above 
all  by  allowing  an  opportunity  for  the  mercy  of  God 
to  show  itself,  acting  through  the  sacrifice  of  his  own 
Son,    the    fallen    soul    is    penetrated   with    a   depth    of 
experience  of  what  moral   perfection   is,  as  he   sees  it 


176  THE   GODLIKENESS   OF  MAN. 

showing  itself  first  in  the  form  of  an  unspeakable  jus- 
tice, and  then  in  the  form  of  a  far  more  unspeakable 
mercy;  and  so  beholding  this  transcendent  image  "he 
is  changed."  A  soul  thus  renewed  is  as  much  above 
the  image  of  Adam,  as  Adam's  innocence  was  above 
evil.     Not  a  restoration,  but  an  advance. 

Thus  wonderfully  God  wrought  good  out  of  evil, 
and  made  that  which  was  purely  evil  but  a  stage  in 
the  process  of  developing  his  moral  image  in  the  soul 
of  man.  This  new  image  of  God  is  not  like  the 
childlike  goodness,  of  ignorance  of  evil,  which  is  but 
a  distant  resemblance  to  God's  separation  from  evil. 
It  has  become  a  separation  from  evil  such  as  God's 
is  in  the  knowledge  of  evil ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  has  become  an  incomparable  increase  in  the  knowl- 
edge or  appreciation  of  holiness,  because  holiness  is 
a  light  which  now  shineth  out  of  darkness  and  in 
contrast  to  darkness. 

The  innocent  creature  can  know  but  little  of  God 
(whether  it  be  man  or  angel)  ;  for  what  is  God?  Holi- 
ness, Justice,  Mercy.  And  who  knows  the  light  of 
holiness  that  sees  not  the  darkness  of  sin?  Who  knows 
justice  that  knows  not  wrong,  and  who  knows  mercy 
that  knows  not  its  forgiveness?  The  innocent  crea- 
ture, be  it  man  or  angel,  can  know  little  of  himself, 
of  his  own  nothingness  and  unworthiness,  and  he 
who  knows  not  these  things  may  speak  of  God,  but 
knows  him  not  as  the  utter  rest  and  all  in  all  of  our 
spirits. 


THE  GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN.  1 77 

How  vain  these  words  are  to  tell  of  the  wonderful 
image  of  God  formed  out  of  our  ruin !  To  know  the 
completeness  of  likeness  which  man  may  thus  have 
to  God,  I  point  to  the  fact  that  the  Being  who  is 
said  to  be  himself  the  express  image  of  the  invisible, 
and  the  very  brightness  of  his  glory,  he  who  was  in 
the  beginning  with  God,  and  was  manifest  in  the  flesh 
as  man,  —  that  this  image  is  his;  that  he  is  the  mould 
and  model  of  it,  and  that  the  Christian  soul  is  made 
a  brother  in  his  perfection  and  a  sharer  of  every  linea- 
ment of  his  image.  There  is  something  in  this  more 
wonderful  than  it  has  yet  entered  into  our  hearts  to 
conceive. 

And  now  we  have  seen  that  God  in  the  beginning 
created  man  in  his  image,  wonderful  in  all  material 
respects  and  moral,  and  we  have  seen  that  he  not 
only  then  created,  but  still  creates;  that  through  the 
deepest  fall  he  makes  new  eras  of  enlarged  perfection 
in  this  divine  image.  And  what  now  shall  be  the 
future?  With  such  a  likeness  to  himself,  thus  amaz- 
ingly created,  through  such  sin,  such  agony  of  wretch- 
edness, and  the  death  of  the  first-begotten  of  God,  I 
know  not  what  future  may  be  intended  for  man.  The 
thing  is  unspeakable.  We  know  not  what  we  shall  be, 
but  this  we  know,  that  when  he  appears,  the  express 
image  of  God,  we  shall  be  like  him ;  and  in  knowing 
that  I  think  we  know  something  which  the  tongue 
of  no  angel  can  utter. 

Therefore,  great  and  precious  and    albeit   incredible 

12 


i;8  THE   GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN. 

promises  are  left  to  men.  They  are  to  be  kings  and 
priests  unto  God.  They  are  to  judge  the  nations; 
they  are  to  judge  angels;  they  are  to  sit  with  Christ 
on  thrones.  "  I  appoint  unto  you  kingdoms,  even  as 
my  Father  hath  appointed  unto  me." 

I  do  not  so  conceive  of  these  promises  as  if  these 
were  to  be  dignities  arbitrarily  thrust  upon  man. 
Knowing  that  now  the  identical  spirit  which  is  one 
with  Christ  is  one  also  with  his  people,  I  must  look 
for  this  astonishing  destiny  of  man ;  for  this,  if  we  saw 
it  aright,  is  but  the  result  of  his  astonishing  character, 
which  is  oneness  in  the  style,  oneness  in  the  image, 
of  the  divine  Son  of  God. 

If  then  any  one  be  disposed  to  think  meanly  of 
this  weak  creature  of  the  dust,  to  smile  at  his  high 
pretensions,  to  make  light  of  everything  else,  such  as 
his  knowledge  or  power,  which  can  connect  in  likeness 
the  unknown  God  with  this  worm,  I  will  waive  it  all ; 
but  there  is  one  thing  I  cannot  waive.  I  cannot  for- 
get that  the  logos  of  God  has  been  a  man,  that  in 
the  image  of  man  he  sits  upon  the  throne,  that  he 
has  made  man  his  brother  in  moral  glory  now  and  in 
all  dignity  hereafter.  I  cannot  deny  this;  nor  do  I 
wish  to  conceal  or  belittle  it.  I  believe  that  the  his- 
tory of  the  world  even  so  far  (and  things  have  but 
begun)  has  shown  a  fathomless  meaning  in  the  words 
which  describe  the  creation  of  the  first  human  being. 
''  And  God  said,  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after 
our  likeness.     So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image, 


THE  GODLIKENESS  OF  MAN.  I/Q 

in  the  image  of  God  created  he  him."  I  believe  these 
wonderful  words  mark  not  a  fact  which  was  finished 
in  Adam,  but  a  fact  which  is  ever  finishing,  the  story 
of  whose  progress  is  the  philosophy  of  the  whole  of 
history. 

Let  no  one  by  a  false  humility  put  aside  these 
things.  God  means  that  we  should  think  greatly  and 
yet  more  greatly  of  what  he  designs  for  the  man  who 
is  his  child.  Judged  by  our  desert^  indeed,  we  should 
not  be  worthy  to  breathe  even  as  worms  of  the  dust ; 
I  believe  earnestly  that  we  are  not  entitled  as  a  matter 
of  right  to  a  single  sight  of  these  heavens,  to  a  single 
enjoyment  or  dignity  even  of  this  earth,  but  all  the 
contrary.  It  is  not  possible  for  me  to  abase  myself 
too  low  before  my  Judge,  my  Benefactor,  my  Saviour, 
my  God  !  When  I  think  one  moment  of  God,  of  that 
greatness,  of  that  purity,  which  makes  the  very  heaven 
of  heavens  unclean ;  when  I  think  of  man,  —  "  man  born 
like  the  wild  ass's  colt,"  man  *'  who  drinks  up  his  in- 
iquity as  water,"  it  seems  monstrous,  blasphemous  even 
to  speak  of  him  as  in  the  image  of  God.  It  is  the  same 
feeling  that  ancient  inspired  singer  felt  when  at  night 
under  a  bright  Eastern  sky  he  sat  contemplating  the 
grandeur  of  the  heavens,  and  of  the  God  who  formed 
them,  and  said, ''  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work 
of  thy  fingers ;  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou  hast 
ordained;  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him? 
and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him?  For  thou 
hast  made  him  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast 


l8o  THE   GODLIKENESS   OF  MAN. 

crowned  him  with  glory  and  honor."  The  feeling  here 
is  precisely  the  feeling  which  becomes  us.  Our  deserts 
we  cannot  regard  too  low :  what  is  man  ?  But  the  fact 
of  the  munificent  gift  and  mercies  of  God  to  us,  to  be 
revealed  in  our  souls  and  our  destinies,  we  cannot  exalt 
too  high  or  enlarge  too  wide ! 

Let  us  then  be  of  good  cheer  and  great  hope ;  for 
when  God  left  the  world,  he  left  his  image  in  man, 
as  the  image  of  the  sun  in  drops  of  dew,  or  as  the 
shadows  on  the  earth  when  the  sun  has  sunk.  Every 
day  and  hour  the  enticements  and  low  rewards  of  sin 
creep  towards  our  hearts.  When  discouraged  and  in 
sorrow,  let  us  remember  the  words,  "God  created  man 
in  his  own  image." 


XVIII. 
THE   DECEPTION    OF    SIN. 

Now  the  serpent  was  7nore  subtile  than  any  beast  of  the  field  which 
the  Lord  God  had  inade  :  and  he  said  unto  the  wo^nan,  Yea, 
hath  God  said,  Ye  shall  not  eat  of  every  tree  of  the  garden, 
etc.  — Gen.  iii.  1-24. 

WHATEVER  difficulties  there  may  be,  and  are,  if 
the  early  part  of  Genesis  be  viewed  as  literal 
history,  or  viewed  as  the  imaginary  embodiment  of 
primitive  and  inspired  conceptions,  it  is  the  most  in- 
teresting record  in  the  world.  Nothing  can  be  more 
weak  and  unhistorical  than  to  read  these  narratives  as 
if  they  were  papers  presented  to  a  scientific  convention, 
or  as  reports  of  a  statistical  bureau,  or  even  that  which 
we  call  biography  or  history.  How  literal  they  are  no 
man  will  ever  be  able  to  say ;  but  that  they  are  truthful, 
in  the  deepest  sense  truthful,  that  they  are  a  record  of 
the  very  Spirit  of  God,  no  man  competent  to  judge 
ought  ever  to  doubt.  Never  was  there  such  childlike- 
nes.s  in  the  form  and  the  details,  suiting  the  time,  united 
with  such  dignity  and  depth  of  substance.  Here  is  a 
tradition  of  the  purest  and  profoundest  ideas,  issuing 
from  the  crude  beginnings  of  the  world ;  and  here  in 
pictured  form  are  laid  those  great  foundations  of  truth 


1 82  THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

on  which  the  human  race  is  built,  and  without  which  it 
never  could  be  truly  human. 

The  Book  of  Genesis  begins  with  God  in  action,  with 
the  creation  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth ;  and  if  it  had 
stopped  with  the  first  sentence,  "  In  the  beginning  God 
created  the  heaven  and  the  earth,"  —  that  fact  settled, 
everything  is  settled  (I  had  almost  said),  for  in  that 
fact  is  laid  the  chief  corner-stone  of  all  truth ;  there  is 
the  fountain  from  which  everything  else  flows.  It 
means  that  spirit  comes  not  from  matter,  but  matter 
from  spirit,  and  from  such  a  spirit,  an  Almighty,  which 
merely  wills,  and  all  that  is  stands  up  and  says,  "  Be- 
hold us  here !  "  —  and  that  this  one  revelation  not  only 
stands  first  in  order,  but  is  so  great  that  all  subsequent 
revelations  might  be  deduced  or  evolved  from  it;  for 
if  there  is  really  an  almighty  spirit  it  must  be  all-pure 
also.  And  when  I  read  that  sentence,  knowing  that 
that  is  just  the  truth  with  which  or  without  which  every- 
thing must  stand  or  fall,  the  sentence  indeed  and  test, 
not  merely  of  a  standing  or  falling  church,  but  of  a 
standing  or  falling  humanity,  —  I  say  no  one  can  read 
it  and  look  around  to-day  at  the  spirit  of  the  latest 
sciences  and  philosophy,  as  they  confront  it,  without  a 
sense  of  heartfelt  awe !  After  thousands  of  years  the 
cleverest  of  the  mere  thought  of  the  race  writes  its  sen- 
tence :  "  In  the  beginning  was  the  mere  possibility  of 
matter."  Read  that  and  this :  ''  In  the  beginning  God 
created  the  heaven  and  the  earth." 

The  first  two  chapters,  then,  present  and  picture  God 


THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN.  1 83 

as  Creator,  creating  the  heaven  and  the  earth.  But 
leaving  this,  I  come  to  the  third  chapter,  which  is  my 
proper  subject,  —  the  beginning  of  the  story  of  God  in 
relation  to  his  human  child.  Here  begins  the  first  in- 
cident of  that  story,  —  the  fall  of  man.  After  just  a 
glance  at  man  innocent,  we  see  man  fallen. 

The  narrative  is  a  very  singular  one,  and  for  many 
years  has  been  subject  to  much  derision.  A  talking 
serpent,  an  apple,  a  deluded  woman  !  For  a  long  time 
this  was  taken  to  mean  just  what  its  outside  looked. 
The  Church  has  felt  so  superstitiously  as  to  the  Bible 
that  it  demanded  all  to  be  taken  as  bald  and  literal 
prose.  But  common-sense  and  the  common  taste  of 
mankind  show  keen  reaction  from  this,  as  all  extremes 
make  extremes,  —  swing  from  east  to  west,  from  utter 
credulity  to  scepticism.  After  a  while,  however,  a 
higher  order  of  interpretation  arose ;  men  were  trained 
to  value  the  significant  traditions  and  legends  of  primi- 
tive times,  and  to  treat  them  with  reverence.  Such 
critics  see  here  a  beautiful  traditional  poem  as  the  form 
in  which  great  truths  are  presented,  —  the  historical 
symbol  of  our  first  parents  in  the  garden,  the  fall  and 
the  expulsion,  setting  forth  the  inner  history  of  our 
spirits  as  to  good  and  evil,  —  a  history  not  only  true, 
but  the  most  true;  true  of  them  and  of  each  child  of 
theirs. 

Now,  an  interpreter  of  this  class,  while  seeing  here 
noble  truths,  might  go  further,  and  see  also  primitive 
and  local  colorings.     I  mean  that  he  might  see   in  the 


1 84  THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

history  signs  of  the  human  feelings  and  opinions  of 
that  far-off  time  and  place.  He  might  say,  for  example, 
I  see  here  traces  of  the  ancient  Eastern  feelings  as  to 
the  character  of  woman.  Adam  in  the  account  is  com- 
paratively innocent,  or  possibly  high  and  generous,  as 
the  East  would  naturally  think,  and  as  our  English  poet 
thought,  who  says  that  he,  seeing  she  had  fallen,  re- 
solved  through   the  vehemence  of  his  love  to    perish 

with  her,  — 

"  from  thy  state 

Mine  never  shall  be  parted,  bliss  or  woe." 

That  is  to  say,  this  was  a  fall  of  woman,  and  rather  an 
exaltation  than  a  fall  of  man.  In  this  way  perhaps 
the  narrative  reflected  the  feeling  of  the  time  as  to  the 
superiority  of  man. 

Then  again,  as  the  placing  of  Eve  first  and  foremost 
in  the  weakness  and  transgression  looks  like  a  reflection 
from  early  human  prejudices,  so  also  the  pre-eminent 
penalty  upon  the  woman  looks  as  if  it  sprang  from  that 
old  Hebrew,  and  indeed  human  feeling,  which,  wherever 
it  finds  pre-eminent  suffering,  feels  that  it  must  be  ac- 
counted for  by  pre-eminent  guilt.  The  old  world  saw, 
as  we  see,  that  woman  is  the  great  sufferer  of  creation, 
so  it  thought  that  she  must  also  be  the  great  sinner. 

And  again ;  such  a  critic  might  go  on  to  say,  I  see 
here  the  most  ancient  theory,  or  rather  the  most  ancient 
imagination,  now  extant,  of  the  origin  of  evil ;  namely, 
an  evident  tracing  of  it  up  gradually  from  the  lower  to 
the  higher,  from  matter  at  the  bottom  through  the  ser- 


THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN.  185 

pent,  through  the  weaker  creature  woman,  up  to  man 
at  the  top.  Its  mysterious  entrance  is  thus  graded  by 
minute  steps,  and  is  thus  made  more  imaginable  to  us. 

In  such  interpretations  as  these  we  get  some  idea  of 
the  tendency  of  modern  criticism  as  to  this  narrative. 
But  the  Church  at  large  does  not  consciously  go  so  far. 
It  goes  very  far  to-day,  in  the  fact  which  it  more  and 
more  admits,  that  the  form  in  which  the  creation  and 
fall  are  described  is  a  form  divinely  adapted  and  ac- 
commodated to  man,  and  especially  to  the  early  ages 
of  the  world.  Few  thoughtful  people  will  now  venture 
to  deny  this;  yet  the  intelligent  application  of  it  will 
resolve  many  of  the  difficulties. 

As  to  the  substance  of  the  story  of  the  fall,  all  believ- 
ers concur  that  it  is  beautiful  and  divine.  But  what  is 
its  substance?  It  means  that  we  are  placed  here  on 
this  earth,  from  the  first  man  down,  with  a  nature  which 
may  listen  and  ascend,  or  may  listen  and  descend, 
capable  of  standing  or  falling.  It  means  that  the  first 
parent  heard  a  voice,  and  that  we  all  hear  a  voice  which 
says,  "  But  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  which  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  garden,  ye  shall  not  eat  of  it,  neither  shall  ye 
touch  it."  It  means  that  the  warning  carries  with  it 
solemn  forebodings,  —  who  has  not  heard  them?  "  For 
in  the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  surely 
die."  It  means  also  that  there  is  another  voice  which 
assures  us  and  deceives  us,  —  "  Ye  shall  not  surely  die." 
So  the  fruit  seems  pleasant  to  the  eyes,  and  glows  rich 
through  the  foliage.     We  take ;  we  eat.     Thus  seduced, 


1 86  THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

the  first  parent  ate  and  died,  and  we  eat  and  die.  As 
the  first  man  did,  so  do  we ;  and  more  than  he,  for  in 
some  measure  we  inherit  a  vicious  will,  which  is  entailed 
upon  us.  Who  can  deny  all  this?  Not  any  one.  And 
is  not  this  original  sin,  derived  sin?  And  is  it  not  as 
certain  as  that  the  race-traits  of  the  ancestors  come 
down  to  the  children? 

Then,  as  to  the  form  of  the  story :  if  any  man  does 
not  like  it,  he  must  be,  it  seems  to  me,  strongly  wanting 
in  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  the  significant.  Listen : 
''  Now  the  serpent  was  more  subtile  than  any  beast  of 
the  field  which  the  Lord  God  had  made :  and  he  said 
unto  the  woman,  Yea,  hath  God  said.  Ye  shall  not  eat 
of  every  tree  of  the  garden?  And  the  woman  said  unto 
the  serpent.  We  may  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees  of  the 
garden:  but  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree. which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden,  God  hath  said.  Ye  shall  not  eat  of 
it,  neither  shall  ye  touch  it,  lest  ye  die.  And  the  ser- 
pent said  unto  the  woman.  Ye  shall  not  surely  die :  for 
God  doth  know,  that  in  the  day  ye  eat  thereof,  then 
your  eyes  shall  be  opened ;  and  ye  shall  be  as  gods, 
knowing  good  and  evil." 

What  children  we  are  to  be  quarrelling  over  a  story 
of  such  deep  import  as  that !  What  care  I  about  the 
garden,  this  fruit,  this  talking  serpent  and  his  entice- 
ments ?  I  know,  alas  !  that  a  garden  was,  and  the  fruit, 
and  the  serpent,  and  that  my  first  parent  eating  died, 
and  that  because  of  him  and  his  weakness  and  sin  I  eat 
more  readily  and  die  more  fully :  there  is  the  whole. 


THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN.  187 

I  will  select  two  or  three  of  the  points  of  this  narra- 
tive which  most  strike  me.  First,  the  truth  of  the  ser- 
pent and  his  lie,  —  the  truth,  "Ye  shall  not  surely  die." 
It  was  true,  the  serpent  had  his  truth.  Strange  to  say, 
they  did  not  die,  as  might  have  been  expected,  at  once, 
by  the  fall  of  the  great  axe  of  justice.  They  lived  on, 
and  in  their  natural  life  felt  perhaps  little  change,  at 
least  at  the  time.  Again,  he  said,  **  Ye  shall  be  as 
gods."  True  also ;  and  the  Lord  God  acknowledged 
the  truth  of  the  serpent's  prediction  when  he  said, 
"  Behold,  the  man  is  become  as  one  of  us."  But  see 
the  lie  in  both  cases:  first,  as  to  death.  Death  did  not 
come  suddenly,  as  the  crack  of  a  rifle,  or  entirely;  but, 
shooting  and  sprouting  from  that  moment,  gradually 
and  really  it  did  come,  and  always  comes,  entering  first 
the  heart  of  guilt,  and  creating  immortal  death  there, 
and  then  by  broken  laws  often  or  usually  ruining  the 
health  and  life  of  the  body.  And  so  by  sin  came  death 
all  through ;   we  see  then  the  serpent's  lie. 

Then  as  to  the  other  point ;  namely,  of  man's  becom- 
ing a  god  through  sin  and  the  opening  of  his  eyes. 
Alas !  their  eyes  were  opened ;  they  were  as  gods  in 
knowledge.  They,  as  it  were,  doubled  their  souls;  the 
range  of  evil  was  added  to  the  range  of  good :  they 
became  as  gods.  The  old  theology,  which  pictured 
primitive  man  not  only  as  innocent  but  as  superior,  was 
not  just.  Sinful  man  is  a  larger  creature  than  innocent 
man  ever  could  be.  Do  you  think  an  innocent  earth- 
creature   like  that  could  ever  have  such    a  history  of 


1 88  THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

intelligence  and  power  as  ours,  which  is  the  history  of 
a  demon-man?  Man  did  become  as  a  god.  But  now 
see  the  lie.  The  gods  standing  in  good  see  the  evil  as 
outside  of  them  and  against  Him ;  but  man,  as  one  of 
the  infernal  gods,  has  gone  down  in  evil,  and  standing 
in  evil  sees  good  there  and  evil  here,  —  standing  in  con- 
scious wrong  sees  his  lost  rectitude.  The  gods  know 
good  and  evil,  but  not  in  the  heart;  man  knows  good 
and  evil  by  partaking  of  evil,  by  sharing  in  it;  and  so 
in  proportion  to  the  elevation  of  his  knowledge  is  the 
debasement  of  his  soul.  Man  goes  upward  in  a  certain 
knowledge ;  but,  passing  in  some  sense  upwards  in  light 
towards  God,  in  a  real  sense  he  passes  downwards  in 
his  being  towards  the  Devil.  That  was  the  godlike  ad- 
vancement, —  to  have  an  illumined  head  but  a  darkened 
heart.  So  sin,  the  serpent,  always  palters  with  us  *'  in 
a  double  sense."  He  promises  the  godlike  and  heav- 
enly, but  after  all  it  is  the  way  down  to  the  bestial  and 
demoniac. 

See,  then,  what  depth  of  meaning  there  is  in  all  temp- 
tation !  There  is  truth  in  it,  to  be  sure,  but  a  deeper 
lie  is  in  it.  There  is  some  reality  in  the  most  empty 
things,  a  seducing  charm  in  all  evil,  but  just  enough  to 
lead  us  and  land  us  in  bitter  wrong.  Ah !  here  is  the 
deception,  the  beautiful  and  deadly  delusion,  which  lies 
in  the  path  of  all  mortals,  —  wrong,  fair  at  the  entrance, 
but  death  at  the  end.  No  godhead  awaits  us  in  that 
path. 

We  have  seen  that  there  is  a  spirit  which  seems  true 


THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN.  1 89 

but  is  deeply  false.  See  now  the  seeming  falsehood 
but  real  truth  of  God.  Adam  did  not  die,  and  he  was 
no  doubt  astonished.  "In  the  day  that  thou  eatest 
thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die."  Untrue  !  They  did  not 
die.  But  yet  God  was  true,  most  true  in  substance. 
Death,  a  deeper  death  in  fact  than  they  could  antici- 
pate, did  follow  their  transgression,  —  always  does ;  and 
though  it  was  not  a  sudden  and  total  extinction  of  be- 
ing, as  they  may  have  imagined,  yet  even  that  imagina- 
tion, though  wrong  in  form,  gave  them  in  fact  the  most 
truthful  glimpse  they  could  have  as  to  it.  So  not  only 
was  the  substance  most  true,  but  the  form,  though  in  a 
sense  false,  was  true  in  a  far  deeper  sense ;  namely,  in 
giving  them  an  impression  the  most  adequate  possible, 
and  the  most  correspondent  to  the  fact. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  great  record  God  gives 
us,  if  I  may  say  so,  this  very  principle  of  interpreta- 
tion, the  secret  for  which  we  are  grasping  every  day. 
That  is  to  say,  we  must  always  look  in  the  Bible  for 
a  truth  of  substance;  but  as  to  the  way  it  is  pre- 
sented, the  form  may  sometimes  be  such  as  sacrifices 
the  literal  reality  to  the  necessity  of  giving  a  truthful 
impression.  If  we  tell  a  story  to  a  child,  we  accom- 
modate it  to  his  mind,  giving  to  his  ignorance  the 
most  truthful  impression  it  can  receive. 

Revelation  was,  as  it  is  always,  a  dawning  day  which 
shows  us  a  part  of  the  landscape  while  the  rest  is  in 
shadow.  The  eye  of  man  is  a  darkened  glass,  and  it 
cannot  be  cleared  unless  gradually  and  by  experience. 


190  THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

If  we  look  at  this  third  chapter  of  Genesis,  and  at  all 
this  record  of  the  beginning,  what  do  we  see  but  real 
and  most  vital  truths,  nobly  expressed,  but  expressed 
to  a  child?  It  is  so  all  through  the  Bible.  When  God 
at  this  enlightened  moment  says  to  the  world,  *'  God," 
"  Redemption,"  **  Immortality,"  we  know  his  meaning, 
and  yet  we  do  not  know  it.  At  every  stage  of  dis- 
covery, here  and  hereafter,  God,  redemption,  and  im- 
mortality will  change  to  the  eye,  —  though  always  the 
same,  yet  always  widely  different !  Just  as  when  he 
said  ''death"  to  the  new-created  woman  Eve,  she  knew 
it  and  she  knew  it  not.  If  a  little  boy  —  and  every 
little  child  is  like  Adam,  the  man-child  of  the  world  — 
could  recollect  the  lessons  of  his  elders  and  gather 
them  in  a  little  book  called  his  Genesis,  his  book  of 
origins  or  beginnings,  he  would  see  the  wisdom  of  his 
elders,  not  merely  in  the  substance  of  the  lessons,  but 
even  in  their  form ;  he  ^'ould  see  just  what  we  may 
see  in  this  early  Bible,  which  is  God's  primer  for  the 
childhood  of  the  human  race,  on  whose  simple  pages, 
though  there  are  many  things  to  which  an  archangel 
might  listen  with  awe,  they  are  often  told  with  what  I 
may  venture  to  call  beautiful  child-talk. 

The  story  of  the  fall  suggests  another  thought.  We 
are  saved  or  we  perish  by  one  thing,  —  this  :  Have  we 
or  have  we  not  trust  in  God?  The  Lord  God  told 
the  woman  one  thing:  ''The  fruit  is  deadly;"  and 
the  serpent  told  her  another:  "The  fruit  gives  life." 
The  veil  was  down,  she  could  not  see  a  step  forward ; 


THE  DECEPTION  OF  SIN.  IQI 

but  the  good  voice,  which  she  knew  was  good,  told 
her  that  death  was  behind,  and  for  a  time  she  trusted 
that  voice.  But  another  voice,  which  was  pleasant  and 
seemed  also  reasonable,  said  pleasure  and  life  were 
behind  that  veil;  and  though  this  persuasion  went 
against  what  she  knew  to  be  good,  she  followed  it. 
Had  she  but  trusted ! 

Trust  in  the  good  thing.  What  is  called  faith  is 
almost  the  one  thought  of  the  Bible.  I  might  de- 
scribe the  whole  of  the  Bible  as  the  history  of  faith 
and  of  faithlessness,  and  here  on  the  first  page  it  be- 
gins. She,  the  trusting  woman, — whose  nature  is  trust, 
but  who,  alas !  can  often  trust  as  easily  in  what  seems 
good  as  in  what  is  good,  —  she  begins  the  world's  woes, 
and  begins  them  how?  Through  her  perverted  trust- 
ingness.  The  one  secret  of  keeping  and  saving  Paradise 
was,  that  man  should  rest  entirely  on  what  he  knew  to 
be  good,  should  hold  to  that  in  the  face  of  seduction. 
And  just  that  also  is  the  secret  of  regaining  Paradise. 
If  I  have  yielded  to  other  voices,  to  hear  again,  though 
far  off,  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  to  trust  it,  and  in 
delightful,  utter,  childlike  confidence  to  go  back  towards 
Paradise,  that  is  all. 

Know  then  that  our  first  fall,  and  all  our  falls,  are 
in  false  faith ;  that  is  to  say,  in  trust  in  the  Devil,  trust 
in  seeming  good,  and  in  want  of  an  honorable,  affec- 
tionate confidence  in  God  and  obedience  to  his  sweet 
commands.  Just  here,  we  see,  is  all  descent  or  ascent, 
fall  or  redemption ! 


192  THE   DECEPTION  OF  SIN. 

Come,  then,  let  us  begin  the  right  trust!  Mercy 
can  never  be  trusted  enough.  Our  redemption  ahvays 
comes  through  faith,  through  the  faith  which  reflects 
and  says,  "  Yes,  I  am  well  aware  that  I  have  descended, 
—  call  it  a  fall.  I  am  weak  in  will,  selfish  and  low  in 
affections ;  I  yield  to  '  what  is  pleasant  to  the  eye  and 
seems  good  for  food ;  '  and  I  find  that  I  have  become  a 
weak,  poor  soul,  blurred  and  stained.  But  I  know  that 
the  Redeemer  liveth,  and  I  will  draw  near  again,  for  I 
know  what  is  in  his  heart;  and  though  I  sin  and  fall 
from  hour  to  hour,  I  will,  whenever  I  recollect  myself, 
be  sorry  for  my  sin,  and  say,  '  I  will  trust  thy  forgive- 
ness; I  will  trust  thee  forevermore.'"  This  is  re- 
demption, the  recovery  from  the  fall ;  this  is  divine 
ascent,  —  finding  once  more  the  regained  Paradise  in 
place  of  the  Paradise  which  is  lost ! 


XIX. 

THE   OBEDIENT   SON. 

Nozv  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field :  and  as  he  cante  and  drew  nigh 
to  the  house,  he  heard  music  and  dancing.  And  he  called  one 
of  the  servants,  and  asked  what  these  things  meant.  And  he 
said  nnto  him,  Thy  brother  is  come  ;  and  thy  father  hath  killed 
the  fatted  calf  ,  because  he  hath  received  him  safe  and  sound. 
And  he  was  angry,  and  would  7iot  go  in:  therefore  ca7ne  his 
father  out .1  aftd  efitreated  him.  A  fid  he.,  answering,  said  to  his 
father,  Lo,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  neither  trans- 
gressed I  at  any  time  thy  commandment ;  and  yet  thou  never 
gavest  me  a  kid.,  that  I  might  make  merjy  with  my  friends  : 
But  as  S0071  as  this  thy  son  was  come,  which  hath  devoured 
thy  livijig  with  harlots,  thou  hast  killed  for  him  the  fatted 
calf.  And  he  said  u7ito  hi7>i.  Son.,  thou  art  ever  with  i7ie;  and 
all  that  I  have  is  thifie.  It  was  meet  that  we  should  make 
I7ierry,  and  be  glad :  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive 
again;  and  was  lost,  and  is  foimd.  — Luke  xv.  25-32. 


N 


O  charge  against  Christ  was  more  in  vogue  than 
that  he  thought  too  much  of  common  and  guilty 
people.  In  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Luke's  Gospel  we 
find  his  defence  of  himself  in  respect  to  his  tenderness 
to  the  lost,  his  habit  of  *'  receiving  sinners."  He  an- 
swers, in  effect,  *'  My  feeling  is  that  of  the  true  human 
heart,  and  of  my  Father's  heart  also ;  "  and  he  tells  sev- 
eral tales  illustrating  this, —  of  the  man  who  lost  one  sheep 
in  the  wilderness ;  of  the  woman  who  lost  one  piece  of 

13 


194  THE   OBEDIENT  SON. 

silver;  and,  above  all,  that  tale  which  is  called  the 
Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.     So  he  defends  himself. 

He  evidently  thought  that  not  merely  Pharisees  but 
even  good  people  might  feel  justly  hurt  at  the  seeming 
preference  for  sinners ;  and  so,  to  give  full  voice  to  this 
feeling,  and  then  to  answer  the  charge  fully,  he  intro- 
duced the  character  of  the  obedient  son,  with  his  com- 
plaint and  the  reply  to  it.  This  obedient  son  seems  at 
first  an  uninteresting  part  of  the  parable.  It  seems  that 
he  was  in  the  field,  and  as  he  *'  drew  nigh  to  the  house, 
he  heard  music  and  dancing."  It  was  not  altogether 
unnatural  that  when  he  learned  how  his  graceless 
brother  had  returned,  and  that  for  him  was  killed 
the  fatted  calf,  he  should  at  the  first  moment  be  angry ; 
for  he  knew  that  in  his  way  he  had  been  true  all  his 
life,  and  none  of  this  joy  had  ever  been  shown  for  him. 
So  he  refused  to  go  in. 

Note,  first,  the  faults  of  this  faithful  son.  He  had 
been  loyal,  and  was  now  jealous  and  angry,  and  more, 
he  was  proud  and  sulky;  ''  he  would  not  go  in."  Then 
"  came  his  father  out,  and  entreated  him."  But  he  is 
still  indignant  and  resentful,  and  not  at  all  backward  to 
state  and  perhaps  to  overstate  his  own  claims:  *' Lo, 
these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  neither  transgressed 
I  at  any  time  thy  commandment."  Nay,  worse  than 
all,  he  is  not  backward  to  make  a  complaint  which  is 
as  cutting  as  it  is  bitter:  "Yet  thou  never  gavest  me 
a  kid  [not  to  speak  of  a  "  fatted  calf"],  that  I  might 
make  merry  with  my  friends :  but  as  soon  as  this  thy 


THE    OBEDIENT  SON.  1 95 

son  was  come  [mark  the  sneer],  which  hath  devoured 
thy  living  with  harlots,  thou  hast  killed  for  him  the 
fatted  calf." 

This  son  and  his  conduct  suggest  many  thoughts  to 
the  mind.  A  chapter  might  easily  be  written  on  the 
faults  of  good  men  and  the  virtues  of  bad  men,  on  the 
surprises  of  a  good  character  and  of  a  bad  one.  The 
faults  of  the  good  have  a  special  ugliness  because  so 
unexpected  and  out  of  place,  while  the  freshness  and 
surprise  of  some  instances  of  nobleness  in  a  bad  man 
come  on  us  like  the  racy  taste  of  wild  fruit.  I  often 
think  that  taken  together  many  saints  and  sinners  are 
not  so  very  far  apart  as  they  seem.  We  should  not 
count  that  other  men  are  all  vicious  because  we  do  not 
like  their  style  of  sinning;  nor,  on  the  other  hand, 
should  we  count  that  we  have  all  virtue  because  we  are 
respectable  in  some  favorite  points. 

Let  us  consider  especially  the  faults  of  dutiful  people. 
Men  who  in  the  main  are  right  seem  on  the  strength  of 
that  to  allow  themselves  in  some  sorts  of  fault.  There 
are  a  thousand  instances  of  this.  An  irritable  man,  for 
example,  who  feels,  and  justly,  how  much  should  be 
allowed  to  a  nervous  temperament,  who  knows  that  his 
tendency  is  often  worse  thought  of  than  it  deserves  to 
be,  and  who  confides  in  his  general  well-meaning,  comes 
at  length  to  indulge  in  habits  of  irritation  and  to  have 
little  or  no  conscience  upon  the  point.  A  clergyman, 
who  may  be  really  a  devout  man,  so  assures  himself  on 
the  good  that  is  in  him,  and  sometimes  on  his  mere 


196  THE   OBEDIENT  SON. 

reputation  for  goodness,  as  to  allow  in  himself  quite  a 
low  tone  of  honor  and  a  certain  professional  meanness; 
for  all  professions  and  all  trades,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  have 
each  their  peculiar  style  of  meanness.  Again :  there  are 
good  men  in  business  and  in  public  life  who  soon  learn 
that  in  human  affairs  a  certain  freedom  —  shall  I  say  a 
degree  of  unscrupulousness?  —  is  most  useful ;  so  these 
men,  though  in  the  main  they  are  just,  and  often  on  this 
very  account,  soon  come  unconsciously  to  a  measure  of 
freedom  which  may  be  called  looseness.  I  know  there 
is  a  false  and  feeble  scrupulosity  which  unfits  for  life, 
and  which  the  very  best  men  are  rarely  subject  to;  but 
I  am  afraid  this  is  a  truth  scarcely  safe  to  trust  in  the 
hands  of  the  world  at  large.  He  is  a  rare  statesman, 
and  he  is  a  rare  man  of  business,  who  without  a  trace  of 
weak  scrupulosity  is  always  truly  honorable.  Again :  a 
regular  and  obedient  Christian  may  insensibly  take  on  a 
certain  pride  and  a  certain  claim  in  religion,  so  that 
when,  for  example,  he  hears  the  parable  about  paying 
the  full  penny  to  him  who  comes  in  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  and  no  more  to  him  who  has  **  borne  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,"  he  feels  a  sense  of  injustice.  And 
this  is  the  case  as  to  the  tale  before  us ;  for  while  to 
the  mass  of  men  it  is  the  most  beautiful  word  ever  ut- 
tered, I  have  no  doubt  that  to  some  very  regular  and 
excellent  people  the  part  as  to  the  prodigal  is  not  free 
from  distastefulness.  They  feel  as  this  elder  brother 
felt.  The  injustice  done  to  himself,  to  his  excellent 
and   hard-worked  self,   quite  swallows    up    his    natural 


THE   OBEDIENT  SON.  197 

joy  over  his   recovered    brother,  quite   treads   out   his 
humanity. 

Observe  in  two  or  three  cases  how  this  self-complacent 
feeling  acts.  Regular  people,  for  example,  tend  to  cer- 
tain extreme  prejudices,  especially  prejudices  against 
particular  classes  of  irregular  people,  —  "  sinners."  We 
have  our  pet  aversions  in  the  moral  world.  The  honor- 
able merchant,  who  does  not  steal,  feels  that  theft  breaks 
all  the  code.  The  respectable  woman  is  cruel  to  her 
outcast  sister,  and  she  will  not  be  melted  even  if  the 
prodigal  is  penitent.  The  man  who  by  long  years  has 
grown  steady  in  good  habits  looks  with  more  than  sus- 
picion upon  sudden  changes  called  '*  conversions."  The 
change  of  the  thief  on  the  cross  is  not  a  natural  thing 
to  him,  and  is  only  believed  because  it  is  in  the  Bible. 
And  so  on. 

Now  this  style  of  good  men  need  a  reprimand ;  they 
are  not  so  good  as  they  seem.  Indeed,  I  must  say  that 
as  the  two  figures  stand  here  together,  one's  sympathies 
may  best  go  with  the  young  prodigal. 

In  the  second  place,  observe  the  father's  treatment  of 
this  dutiful  son.  The  son  "  was  angry  and  would  not 
go  in :  therefore  came  his  father  out  and  entreated  him  " 
to  go  in,  and  gave  him  two  reasons.  The  first  is  this : 
"  Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is 
thine,"  —  that  is,  I  have  done  no  injustice ;  I  am  fair  to 
you.  This  especial  overflow  of  kindness  to  the  prodigal 
is  an  occasion,  but  I  am  ever  with  thee ;  this  music  and 
the  fatted  calf  are  a  momentary  gift,  but  all  that  I  have 


198  THE    OBEDIENT  SON. 

is  thine.  You  have  not  asked  your  portion  of  goods 
and  squandered  it;  it  is  all  thine.  I  welcome,  to  be 
sure,  my  lost  son,  and  it  is  true  that  during  this  moment 
of  joy  I  value  more  the  lost  piece  of  silver,  the  lost  child, 
than  that  which  is  always  with  me,  —  that  is  human,  — 
and  it  is  true  that  so  far  as  may  be  I  will  reinstate  him ; 
but  still  the  lost  heritage  returns  not:  what  is  lost  is 
lost.     Yours  is  the  unlost  heritage. 

Now,  in  this  part  of  the  parable,  we  see,  is  the  neces- 
sary correction  to  the  lavish  kindness,  the  abandonment, 
of  the  prodigal's  reception.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  neu- 
tralize the  beautiful  welcome  the  Father  of  prodigals 
bestows  upon  his  returning  children.  That  "  welcome 
home  again "  to  every  soul  which  cries  out,  "  I  will 
arise,"  has  gone  down  into  the  very  heart  of  the  world. 
Every  ear  hears  it,  and  it  lifts,  if  only  for  a  moment, 
every  drooping  head.  No  deeper  revelation  has  ever 
been  made  of  the  heart  of  God.  That  divine  Son  who 
has  taught  us  all  to  say,  "  Our  Father,"  has  here  raised 
still  higher  the  curtain  which  covers  the  pathos  of  the 
Father's  heart.  Still,  we  must  not  be  one-sided.  Even 
the  Father's  pity  cannot  do  everything.  Sin,  wrong, 
even  redeemed  and  forgiven  wrong,  has  a  solemn  as- 
pect. Broken  laws  will  have  at  least  something  of  their 
vengeance.  We  see  it  in  nature.  A  foolish  course  is 
changed,  the  bad  man  grows  better,  a  new  robe  is  on 
him,  but  something  of  violated  law  still  follows  him,  and 
broken  health,  and  lost  honor,  and  wasted  fortune  will 
not  come  back  at  command.     And  though  the  God  and 


THE   OBEDIENT  SON.  199 

Saviour   in  the  Gospel  is  far  above  nature,  far  kinder 
than  the   God  in  nature,  yet  even  in  that  kingdom  of 
kindness  — ''kingdom  of  grace,"  as  we  beautifully  call 
it  —  we  see  that  the  man  who  has  abused  his  soul  will 
thereby  suffer  loss,  even  after  he  has  come  home.      The 
portion  that  fell  to  him  is  gone,  and  though  he  may  re- 
cover much,  there  are  things  he  cannot  recover.     Noth- 
ing can  make  up  for  the  evil  of  bad  habits.     To  be  sure, 
a  great  awakening  at  the  centre,  a  glowing  fire  in  the 
heart,  may  break  through  the  crust  of  deadly  habit  for 
a  time;  but  there  is  fear  that,  unless  that  fire  burns  in- 
tensely or  very  long,  old  things  will  resume  their  place. 
You  may  return  to  the  Father's  house  with  the  sound  of 
music,  but  when  you  are  back  there  and  settled,  a  life 
of  struggle  may  be  before  you.      You  carry  back  into 
the  temple  a  desecrated  soul,  and  it  must  be  built  again 
from  its  own  ruins.     The  region  of  religion,  though  it  is 
above    nature    in  that  it  admits  of  greater  redeeming 
changes,  is,  after  all,  a  region  of  law.      It  is  true  that,  if 
the  prodigal's  gratitude  and  love  are  as  great  as  the  sins 
from  which  he  is  saved,  there  may  be  a  good  in  the 
calling  forth  of  these  qualities  which  will  be  more  than 
a  compensation  for  the  evil;   and  I  believe  that  there 
are  renewed   souls  which  reascend  higher  by  far  than 
the  more  regular  and  obedient  children ;   but  as  a  rule, 
a   permanent  obedience,   good   habits,   an    unperverted 
imagination,  a  will  for  good  long  strengthened,  an  un- 
squandered  soul,  are  better  than  the  fatted  calf  and  the 
music,  however  heavenly,  of  the  great  sinner  pardoned. 


200  THE   OBEDIENT  SON. 

We  may  reach  a  higher  good  by  the  knowledge  of 
evil,  if  the  Spirit  given  to  us  is  full  enough.  There  is 
always  hope  for  the  most  inveterately  wicked.  But  this 
is  not  the  rule ;  for  a  prodigality  and  an  inveteracy  of 
evil  usually  break  the  very  springs  of  good  in  the  soul, 
and  though  such  a  man  may  repent  and  trust  and  be 
forgiven,  his  nature,  so  far  as  we  can  observe  it,  rarely 
quite  recovers,  and  it  would  seem  that  his  destiny  here- 
after will  be  on  a  lower  level  than  it  might  have  been. 

The  lot  of  the  obedient  son  is  one  deeply  enviable, 
and  God  is  not  unjust.  If,  then,  you  have  tried  to  do 
your  duty,  and  repine  over  the  fact  that  your  life  is  un- 
cheered  by  music  within  or  without,  if  your  heart  is  slow 
and  dull,  your  outward  fortunes  poor,  while  you  see 
fortune's  favors  around  you  in  the  world,  and,  what  is 
worse,  even  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  —  that  is,  see  sinful 
men  and  women  coming  from  afar  and  reaching  as  if  in 
a  moment  what  you  have  been  toiling  all  your  life  to 
find,  and  if  you  hear  the  angels  of  God  rejoicing  over 
them  and  not  over  you,  still,  be  steady.  *'  Son,  thou  art 
ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine." 

This,  then,  is  the  father's  first  argument  with  his  obe- 
dient but  complaining  son.  His  next  and  finer  appeal 
is  addressed  to  the  better  heart  of  this  son.  Listen : 
*'  Son,  it  was  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and  be 
glad  :  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ; 
and  was  lost,  and  is  found,"  Observe :  "  It  was  meet 
that  we''  —  you  as  well  as  I  —  ''should  make  merry: 
for  this  thy  brother''  —  not  this   my  son  only  —  "  w^as 


THE   OBEDIENT  SON.  201 

dead,  and  is  alive  again."  This  simple  appeal,  —  not  to 
justice  only,  or  to  the  generous  and  tender  heart,  but 
this  call  to  family  mercy,  —  this  entreaty  to  human 
brothers  that  they  should  feel  he  same  domestic  love 
the  Father  feels,  —  this  is  a  revelation  to  us  all  of  the 
heart  of  the  Father  of  the  house.  *'  It  was  meet."  If 
there  hears  me  any  father  or  any  mother,  any  parent 
who  has  known  that  heart-break,  a  lost  son,  who  has 
seen  him  squalid  and  broken,  but  returning,  and  who 
knows  what  a  thrill  of  tender  joy  would  welcome  the 
lost  boy,  stained  and  wasted,  but  with  the  tears  of  peni- 
tence upon  his  cheek,  coming  back  and  saying,  ''  Father, 
mother,  I  have  sinned,"  that  parent's  heart  will  know 
the  deep  truth  of  the  appeal,  ''  It  was  meet."  The 
regular  son,  the  cold  man  of  duty,  needed  to  be  con- 
verted  to  something  higher, —to  love;  and  so  the 
father  says  to  him,  ''  It  is  meet."  He  is  treated  with 
charming  wisdom  and  pathetic  sweetness,  —  no  less,  I 
think,  than  is  the  prodigal. 

The  story  is  usually  called  the  Parable  of  the  Prodi- 
gal Son;  but  it  seems  to  me  more  properly  a  tale  of 
the  fatherhood  of  God,  or,  if  it  must  be  named  anything 
else,  it  should  be  a  tale  of  the  father  and  his  two  sons. 
The  whole  world,  conscious  of  sin,  has  risen  up  in  re- 
sponse to  that  one  vision,  —  of  God  seeing  afar  off  his 
lost  son ;  but  has  it  seen  as  clearly  the  exquisitely  bal- 
anced feeling  of  the  tale,  — the  father  turning  now  to 
one  child,  and  now  to  the  other,  turning  from  gross  sin 
to  the  pride  of  duty,  and  entreating  that  also  to  return 


202  THE  OBEDIENT  SON, 

and  to  be  humble,  merciful,  brotherly?  If  we  are 
charmed  that  God  is  such  a  Father  to  us  as  prodigals, 
we  may  be  charmed  also  that  he  is  so  forbearing  to  us 
as  conceited  and  intolerant  men  of  duty.  Ah  !  we  must 
guard  against  the  vices  even  of  our  virtues.  Good  con- 
duct is  always  near  to  pride,  and  pride  is  near  to  great 
expectations  and  claims,  and  these  disappointed  are 
near  to  bitterness  towards  God  and  envy  of  others :  ''  I 
deserved  something,  and  have  not  got  it;  he  deserved 
nothing,  and  see  how  he  prospers." 
/  God  seems  to  me  more  endearing  when  he  forbears 
towards  pride,  and  entreats  it,  than  when  he  forgives 
open  sin.  He  would  have  been  just  had  he  said,  "  You, 
with  all  your  duty,  are  yet  a  conceited,  selfish,  and  hard- 
hearted creature ;  you  do  not  serve  God  for  naught,  — 
not  you ;  you  have  no  feeling  for  your  destroyed 
brother;  you  are  thinking  how  much  he  gets  and  how 
little  you  get ;  you  want  a  kid  ;  you  forget  the  nobleness 
of  your  privileges,  —  *  Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and 
all  that  I  have  is  thine ;  '  you  forget  the  inherent  good 
of  the  faithful  sons  of  God,  —  that  the  Lord  is  your 
portion,  the  lot  of  your  inheritance;  and  you  are  an- 
gry. Go,  ingrate,  and  learn  that  lowliness  is  better  than 
proud  duty,  that  mercy  to  the  prodigal  is  better  than  to 
keep  all  the  commandments.  Go  !  "  That  would  have 
been  just;  but  that  was  not  the  heart  of  the  father. 
He  entreats  him  to  go  in,  and  says :  ''  Son,  thou  art 
ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine.  It  was  meet 
that  we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad :  for  this  thy 


THE   OBEDIENT  SON.  203 

brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;   and  was  lost,  and 
is  found." 

O  beautiful  vision  of  God  !  most  precious  to  the  sin- 
ful sons  of  men !  On  that  hand,  for  foolish  prodigals 
perishing  with  hunger,  he  has  *'  bread  enough ;  "  and 
on  this  hand,  if  we  have  tried  to  do  some  duty,  to  toil 
along  in  the  life  of  hard  work,  but  are  yet,  though  duti- 
ful, cold  hearts,  a  sort  of  miserable  officials  and  com- 
plainers,  he  yet  bears  it,  and  is  more  than  just  to  us, 
and  entreats  us.  This  poor  race  of  ours  has  to  thank 
its  Lord  and  Saviour  for  many  things ;  but  is  there  any- 
thing really  so  precious  to  us  as  this, —  to  know  that 
whether  we  be  prodigals  or  sinful  men  of  duty,  what- 
ever we  are,  we  have  such  a  God  as  this,  a  Father  who 
knows  all  our  weaknesses  and  remembers  that  the  best 
of  us  are  but  dust,  —  that  ''  this  God  is  our  God  for 
ever  and  ever "? 


XX. 

CHRIST    AND    THE    GADARENES. 

Then  the  whole  imiltitude  of  the  country  of  the  Gadarenes  round 
about  besought  him  to  depart  from  the^n;  for  they  were  taken 
with  great  fear.  And  he  went  tip  into  the  ship.,  and  returned 
back  again.  A'ow.,  the  matt  out  of  whom  the  devils  were  de- 
parted., besought  him  that  he  might  be  with  him  :  but  Jesus  sent 
him  away,,  saying.,  Return  to  thine  own  house,  and  show  how 
great  things  God  hath  done  unto  thee.  —  Luke  viii.  37-39. 

/^~^HRIST  had  cast  out  the  devils  from  this  man,  and 
^-^  had  destroyed  a  herd  of  swine.  Then  the  people 
*'  besought  him  to  depart  from  them ;  for  they  were 
taken  with  great  fear."  Here  is  almost  the  only  in- 
stance in  the  New  Testament  where  Christ  appears  with 
something  of  terribleness  in  his  power,  so  that  to  the 
frightened  imagination  he  seemed  a  vaguely  terrible 
being,  and  they  besought  him  to  depart. 

Fear  as  to  the  supernatural,  particularly  if  it  spreads 
through  a  multitude,  as  it  did  here,  is  the  wildest  of  the 
passions,  and  quite  overthrows  our  weak  souls.  For  we 
are  weak,  ignorant,  and  sinful  creatures,  and  precisely 
because  of  each  of  these,  —  weakness,  ignorance,  sin- 
fulness, —  we  fear.  Nay,  if  even  God  would  afford  to 
our  reason  every  pledge  of  safety,  we  should  still  in- 
stinctively tremble  before  unknown  power.     The  Israel- 


CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES.  205 

ites  were  profoundly  alarmed  before  Sinai;  and  the 
apostles  could  not  behold  some  of  the  miracles  of  the 
gentle  and  beloved  Master  without  the  deepest  agita- 
tion. But  here  was  an  act,  not  only  of  terrible,  but  of 
destroying  power;  and  so  "  they  were  taken  with  great 
fear." 

This  singular  exception  in  the  career  of  Christ 
forcibly  impresses  us  with  the  fact  of  his  usual  gentle- 
ness, of  his  general  care  not  to  alarm  a  creature  so 
easily  alarmed.  This  is  well  worthy  of  attention.  As 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  wield  supernatural  power  v/ith- 
out  exciting  alarm,  we  can  see  how  wonderfully  in  his 
hands  its  terrors  were  subdued.  Take  up  these  Gospel 
narratives,  and  we  find  crowded  into  a  period  of  from 
one  year  to  three  such  an  imposing  mass  of  wonders, 
such  displays  of  more  than  mortal  power,  that  if  they 
were  fully  believed  in,  as  they  were,  they  would  startle 
the  soul  to  its  depths  with  terror.  But  they  did  not, 
because  of  the  mild  and  sympathetic  style  of  the 
miracles  themselves ;  also,  of  the  instinctive  confidence 
of  the  heart,  not  only  in  Christ's  thorough  humanity, 
but  in  his  humaneness;  and  because  all  this  mighty 
force  was  clearly  used,  not  for  personal  ends  or  from 
personal  wishes,  but  by  a  being  thoroughly  righteous. 
More  than  this :  had  he  been  merely  righteous,  what  to 
sinful  men  could  have  been  more  terrible  than  a  being 
of  supernatural  energies  walking  among  them  with  a 
heart  of  mere  justice?  From  such  a  being  the  whole 
world  would  fall  back. 


206  CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES. 

There  must,  then,  have  been  inspired,  wherever  he 
appeared,  such  a  deep  sense  of  benignity,  such  a  feeling 
that  all  this  strange  power  was  in  the  hands  of  unselfish- 
ness and  mercy,  that  so,  and  so  alone,  the  frightfulness 
of  mere  might,  or  even  of  just  might,  was  covered  over 
and  made  tolerable  and  even  sweet.  It  was  true  of  him, 
as  Job  sublimely  says  of  God,  that  he  held  "  back  the 
face  of  his  throne." 

The  God  in  Nature,  as  we  see  him  working  around 
us,  shows  the  same  spirit  which  was  in  Christ.  As 
his  Father  worked,  so  he  worked.  Through  all  these 
mighty  operations  in  the  universe,  passing  on  even  now, 
all  is  done  with  unspeakable  quietness ;  the  heavens  are 
held  up  in  silence,  the  great  oceans  and  rivers  are  heard 
in  whispers ;  the  power  is  hushed,  as  a  mother  stills  the 
noises  which  would  alarm  a  sleeping  child.  If  I  were 
to  express  what  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  impression 
of  this  creation,  I  should  call  it  gentleness,  —  a  gentle- 
ness like  that  of  Christ.  Without  this  it  is  obvious  man 
could  not  exist,  much  less  enjoy,  or  be  trained  for  his 
destiny.  It  is  true  this  concealment  of  power  seems  to 
be  carried  far,  so  that  man  almost  loses  the  sense  of 
that  awful  Presence  which  is  among  us.  Hence  God 
startles  us,  exceptionally,  with  events  which  we  call 
miracles.  In  these,  the  very  person  of  God  comes  in, 
or  stands  at  the  door  and  knocks.  Without  something 
of  this  we  should  lose  God  in  the  hush  of  his  gentleness, 
in  the  soundless  harmony  of  perfect  and  unchanging 
law.     But  the  regularity  and  gentleness  are  his  custom ; 


CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES.  20/ 

and  even  when  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  walk  into 
the  scene  himself,  though  he  comes  with  a  startle,  he 
comes  with  no  terror,  but  appears  under  the  sweet 
humanity  and  with  the  humane  ways  of  Christ. 

But  the  Gadarenes  were  afraid,  not  merely  because 
of  his  supernatural  terriWeness,  but  because  of  a  much 
more  vulgar  reason  :  they  saw  the  loss  of  property,  the 
drowning  of  the  swine.  "  This  stranger  may  bring  very 
high  things  with  him ;  indeed,  that  is  clear,  for  he  ejects 
devils;  "  this  could  not  be  denied.  But  these  men  were 
much  more  sensitive  to  their  lower  than  to  their  higher 
interest.  *'  Suppose  he  does  come  as  a  dispossessor  of 
devils,  —  we  don't  wish  our  swine  destroyed."  Look 
at  this  fact  of  human  nature:  he-  came,  as  we  know, 
bringing  wherever  he  came  the  very  kingdom  of  God  ; 
but  then  the  swine  were  destroyed !  So  they  **  be- 
sought him  to  depart  from  them."  They  recognized 
the  majesty  of  Christ,  just  as  multitudes  of  us  do  to-day; 
but  then  it  is  disagreeable ;  it  interferes  with  property, 
with  pleasures ;   and  they,  as  we,  wish  him  away. 

In  this,  the  city  and  region  of  Gadara  were  an  exact 
image  of  the  whole  Jewish  nation.  He  came  to  the 
Jews  at  the  last  hour  of  their  hopes,  when  the  State  and 
the  people  were  sinking  into  a  great  gulf,  and  whether 
he  was  the  Messiah  of  the  prophets  or  not,  no  man 
can  deny  that  he  was  the  true  and  only  Messiah  for 
them,  who,  if  he  had  been  received,  would  have  given 
them  a  divine  revolution  and  purification  and  power, 
and  established  them  forever  on  the  tops  of  the  moun- 


208  CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES. 

tains.  But  the  men  of  Gadara  were  taken  with  a  great 
fear,  —  their  swine ;  the  high  Pharisees  and  rulers  at 
Jerusalem  were  also  taken  with  a  great  fear,  —  their 
swine:  their  places,  power,  prejudices,  all  threatened. 
As  Gadara  was,  so  was  Jerusalem;  and  as  Jerusalem 
was,  so  men  are  in  all  places  and  times. 

True;  and  not  merely  of  Christ,  but  of  every  one 
like  him  who  brings  to  men  something  higher  than  they 
want,  and  menaces  them  with  any  mean  loss.  Let  it 
be  a  patriot,  a  reformer,  a  truth-teller  of  any  sort,  he 
must  depart. 

All  good  comes  into  the  unwilling  heart  as  a  dis- 
turber. Every  gleam  and  monition  and  persuasion 
which  says,  "  My  son,  this  is  the  path  of  life,"  —  all 
this,  terrible  or  beautiful  as  the  voice  may  be,  is  uncon- 
genial. We  are  fond  of  such  poor  things  that  the  pure 
and  right  thing  is  an  interference.  But  God  will  inter- 
fere. He  is  the  sternest  of  disturbers,  for  all  his  mercy 
prompts  to  our  disturbance.  He  aims  to  shake  us  out 
of  our  delusions,  though  we  cry,  "  Hold  !  "  He  stings 
and  spurs ;  and  the  more  he  stings  and  spurs,  the  more 
he  thinks  of  us  ;  and  only  when  he  thinks  not  of  us,  — 
when  we  have  become  as  brutes,  —  only  then  he  gives 
us  entire  ease,  and  leaves  our  coasts. 

Here,  then,  was  one  prayer  and  its  answer.  But  we 
have  another:  ''  Now  the  man  out  of  whom  the  devils 
were  departed  besought  him  that  he  might  be  with 
him."  Ah,  how  different  the  petition !  This  was  he 
who  had  lately  said,  '*  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee?     I 


CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES.  209 

beseech  thee,  torment  me  not."  But  the  devils  were 
gone  now,  and  he  was  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind. 
He  "  besought  him  that  he  might  be  with  him." 

This  stands  here  to  every  age  a  model  and  an  image, 
as  fine  as  any,  of  the  spirit  redeemed,  —  the  power  of 
Satan  fallen  off,  —  and  the  whole  heart  lifting  itself  to 
its  gracious  Deliverer.  This  man  had  passed  from 
darkness  to  light;  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God; 
from  the  cry,  "  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  Jesus, 
thou  Son  of  God  most  high?"  to  "Master,  let  me  be 
with  thee." 

Here,  then,  were  two  prayers,  —  the  one  embracing, 
the  other  ejecting,  the  Lord  of  life ;  the  mass  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  rare  exception  on  the  other;  the 
poor  outcast  here,  the  prosperous  citizens  of  Gadara 
there. 

Mark  the  contrast  of  these  two  prayers,  also  their 
answers.  **  They  besought  him  to  depart;  and  he  went 
up  into  the  ship,  and  returned  back  again,"  —  a  prayer 
granted.  **  Now  the  man  out  of  whom  the  devils  were 
departed  besought  him  that  he  might  be  with  him ;  but 
Jesus  sent  him  away,"  —  a  prayer  refused. 

The  one  prayer  granted.  These  "  fat  and  greasy  citi- 
zens," who  wanted  nothing  but  the  world,  had  their  way, 
just  as  they  wished  it  The  Lord  granted  them  their 
request,  but  sent  leanness  into  their  souls. 

But  consider  the  other  prayer,  —  the  prayer  refused. 
Here  was  a  poor  creature,  the  man  dispossessed,  who 
had  been  all  shaken  with  his  spiritual  and  bodily  pests, 

14 


2IO  CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES. 

indeed  quite  shattered ;  and  now  that  he  feh  the  blessed 
peace  and  purity  of  health,  and  looked  on  the  past 

*'  Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream,"  — 

seeing,  in  fact,  the  terrible  figures  which  had  possessed 
him  retreating  but  still  menacing,  he  shrunk  frightened 
to  the  feet  of  his  Benefactor,  and  clung  there  like  a 
child.  He  was  afraid  to  be  left  alone;  he  was  most 
grateful  and  tender  towards  the  pitiful  Being  who  had 
relieved  him.  "  Master,  I  am  grateful ;  let  me  attend 
thee  and  serve  thee  wherever  thou  goest;  let  thy  home 
be  my  home.  Master,  I  adore  thee;  let  me  be  with 
thee.  This  night  of  the  devil  may  return ;  with  thee  I 
am  safe :  let  me  go  with  thee.  These  who  thus  dismiss 
thee  have  not  known  thee ;  let  me  be  with  thee." 

Could  such  a  prayer  be  denied,  and  by  the  pitiful 
Lord?  It  was  denied:  '*  But  Jesus  sent  him  away." 
Scarcely  anything  in  the  story  of  Christ  looks  sterner. 
I  believe  it  is  the  only  final  denial  he  ever  gave  to  any 
affectionate  petition  for  aid.  I  cannot  recall  that  he 
ever  refused  before;  and  why  here?  We  scarcely  know 
why.  It  would  have  saved  the  poor  creature  from  so 
much !  But  it  was  denied.  We  cannot  explain  the 
divine  ways,  whether  in  Nature,  in  history,  or  in  the 
Gospels.  They  are  often  very  far  above,  out  of  our 
sight.  Do  we  not  all  know  of  deep  wishes  of  the  heart 
which,  if  they  could  have  been  granted,  would  have 
saved  much,  not  merely  of  sorrow  (for  sorrow  is  a 
blessed  thing),  but  of  guilt?     Alas!  I  cannot  explain. 


CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES.  211 

There  is,  I  doubt  not,  a  great  end,  where  all  the  threads 
and  lines  are  gathered  and  drawn  in  together  in  one 
result;   and  that,  I  hope,  will  explain  all. 

However,  we  can  see  something.  Though  God  trains 
us,  and  not  according  to  our  methods,  yet  we  can  often 
see  that  he  is  the  true  Master  of  discipline.  In  this 
case  it  seemed  pleasant  and  safe  to  be  with  Christ;  but 
the  man  needed  strengthening  of  the  will,  strong  habits. 
God  knows  it  is  best  that  we  should  struggle  through 
difficulty.  Easiness  is  not  for  us.  The  Lord  demanded 
a  manhood  of  the  soul.  He  said  to  his  apostles,  when 
leaving  the  world,  *'  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go 
away;  "  and  then,  besides,  he  opened  to  this  man  the 
great  resource  of  doing  something:  *' Return  to  thine 
own  house,  and  show  how  great  things  God  hath  done 
unto  thee.  Make  good  your  standing-place  here, 
in  the  spot  where  you  are;  here  show  forth  your 
gratitude." 

Observe  in  this  the  controlled  feeling  and  wisdom  of 
Christ.  He  yields  to  none  of  the  weak  wishes  of  love. 
"  Find  my  presence  and  safeguard  not  in  this  place  or 
that,  but  in  duty,  wherever  that  is ;  show  your  adora- 
tion and  gratitude,  and  work  out  the  sublime  life  you 
propose  to  yourself,  not  in  the  wish  to  follow  me,  but 
just  here,  in  this  spot,  distant  and  obscure  as  it  is,  and 
in  doing  work  like  mine."  So  he  commits  the  man 
to  himself,  as  the  bird  commits  its  fledgling  to  the  air, 
to  use  its  own  efforts  for  flight,  and  to  beat  with  its 
own  wings  against  the  currents  of  the  strongest  winds. 


212  CHRIST  AND    THE   GADARENES. 

Here,  then,  was  a  prayer,  refused  indeed,  but  granted 
while  it  was  refused.  The  real  under-wish  of  the  heart, 
which  was,  to  be  kept  safe  in  the  true  good,  was  granted 
■ —  and  best  granted  —  by  this  refusal. 

So  in  both  these  cases  the  real  wishes  were  responded 
to  :  he  gave  both  in  reality  what  they  sought.  He  gave 
the  fat  citizens  the  safe  enjoyment  of  their  swine ;  and 
while  he  told  his  poor  friend  that  he  must  leave  him,  he 
yet  gave  himself  back  to  him  in  a  higher  manner.  And 
just  this  God  always  and  accurately  does.  God  is  al- 
ways the  hearer  of  prayer.  He  hears  the  wicked  as 
well  as  the  righteous.  He  hears  all  prayer  but  sham 
prayer,  and  that  is  no  prayer.  Whatever  the  heart 
really  wants,  and  persists  in  wanting,  he  grants.  If  we 
wish  him  away,  we  may  be  sure  "  he  will  go  up  into  the 
ship,  and  return  back  again ;  "  if  we  really  wish  to  be 
with  him,  though  he  seems  to  depart,  he  never  departs. 
Substantially,  whatever  we  want,  we  shall  have.  There 
are  but  two  lives,  —  the  life  of  the  earth  and  that  of 
heaven.  If  our  prayer  is  that  heaven  may  disappear, 
and  leave  us  to  the  earth,  just  as  certainly  as  heaven 
departed  from  the  men  of  Gadara  it  will  depart  from 
us.  *'  He  that  seeketh  findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knock- 
eth  it  shall  be  opened."  This  is  no  magic,  or  exception, 
or  favoritism :  it  is  the  law  of  the  spiritual  world,  and  is 
as  certain  as  our  existence. 

Hear,  then,  again  the  text,  and  let  its  deep  spiritual 
meaning  be  forever  written  upon  our  hearts:  "Then 
the  whole  multitude  of  the  country  of  the  Gadarenes 


CHRIST  AND   THE   GADARENES.  213 

round  about  besought  him  to  depart  from  them;  for 
they  were  taken  with  great  fear.  And  he  went  up 
into  the  ship,  and  returned  back  again.  Now,  the  man 
out  of  whom  the  devils  were  departed,  besought  him 
that  he  might  be  with  him:  but  Jesus  sent  him  away, 
saying,  Return  to  thine  own  house,  and  show  how 
great  things  God  hath  done  unto  thee." 


XXI. 

MAN'S   PRAISE   MORE   THAN   GOD'S    PRAISE. 

For  they  loved  the  praise  of  7nen  more  than  the  praise  of 
God.  —  John  xii.  43. 

'^  I  "HE  hunger  of  praise  takes  a  thousand  forms,  and' 
-'-  is  often  disguised;  but  I  think  it  is  the  most 
universal  and  deepest  passion  of  our  hearts,  certainly  of 
many  hearts,  and  there  is  no  nature,  however  dull, 
which  is  not  keenly  alive  to  it.  It  breathes  through  all 
souls,  from  the  little  child  up.  Not  the  most  distin- 
guished actor  on  the  most  illustrious  stage  of  the  world, 
not  the  admired  woman  in  the  pride  of  her  beauty,  or 
the  unadmired  woman  in  the  subdued  yet  eager  aspira- 
tions of  her  heart,  —  not  these  are  more  marked  by  it 
than  the  begrimed  sweep  coming  out  of  his  home  in 
the  chimneys.  The  hod-carrier  honestly  prides  himself 
on  his  quickness  and  strength,  and  he  too  is  for  having 
his  admirers.  We  all,  in  different  degrees,  wait  upon, 
hang  upon,  pant  for  good  opinion.  The  affectionate 
heart  longs  for  it  in  its  highest  shape  of  kindness  and 
love;  the  vain  long  for  their  petty  applause,  and 
those  who  are  too  proud  to  own  it,  who  pretend  to 
rest  on  themselves,  are  often  half-dying  for  praise ;  but 
then,  it  must  be  in  some  form  choice  enough  and  large 


MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE.     2l^ 

enough  to  suit  their  pride.  The  clackings  of  a  little 
town  or  a  little  newspaper  satisfy  some ;  the  trumpet 
of  the  ages  is  the  want  of  others. 

To  be  sure,  some  of  the  higher  order  of  men,  in  their 
love  for  pure  truth  or  for  humanity,  outgrow  much 
desire  for  mere  praise.  The  true  thinker  loves  his 
thought  better  than  the  pay  or  praise.  When  a  traveller 
visited  the  study  of  the  illustrious  A.  von  Humboldt, 
he  found  all  his  splendid  orders  and  insignia  which 
were  gifts  from  the  most  distinguished  bodies  and  men 
in  Europe,  —  he  found  them  all  thrown  in  a  heap  in  the 
corner  of  the  room.  And  yet  even  Humboldt  would 
have  been  keenly  sensitive  to  the  loss  of  his  true  re- 
nown, and  all  alive  to  any  real  disgrace.  Ineradicable 
is  that  feeling.  In  fact,  few  men  ever  realize  how  much 
it  is  to  them.  When  deserted  by  some  people  we  fall 
back  upon  the  good  opinion  of  some  others,  and  never 
until  we  have  that  rare  experience  of  being  deserted 
by  all,  and  not  only  neglected  but  hissed  by  all,  —  not 
until  that  does  any  man  know  the  deep  dependence  of 
his  heart  upon  the  opinion  of  his  fellows. 

So  deep  a  passion  must  have  a  great  and  benign  pur- 
pose. The  bad  things  in  this  creation  of  God  always, 
if  fairly  looked  at,  betray  a  deep  good  below ;  and  so 
it  is  here.  Praise  sets  the  whole  world  in  motion  to 
useful  ends.  There  are  moments  when  if  we  have  it 
fully  we  feel  as  if  borne  upon  the  most  beautiful  and 
softest  cloud  of  the  sunset,  and  sunk  to  rest  within  its 
gorgeous  down ;   but  if  we  have  it  not,  we  are  poor  and 


2l6    MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE. 

naked.  If  the  work  of  the  world  were  actuated  merely 
by  the  hunger  and  thirst  of  the  senses,  all  work  would 
stop  except  mere  brutal  clutchings,  and  man's  life  be- 
come as  poor  and  cheap  as  the  life  of  the  beasts.  On 
the  other  hand,  were  we  actuated  to  work  merely  by 
duty,  what  slack  workmen  should  we  be  !  How  still 
and  nerveless  the  industry  of  the  earth  !  And  if  we 
were  left  to  the  love  of  truth  or  beauty,  —  the  truth- 
instinct  and  the  art-instinct,  —  how  faint  and  cold  are 
they,  except  to  a  very  few  indeed !  But  when  the 
warm  master-passion  comes  in,  then  with  infinite  pains 
we  dress  the  body  to  please  the  eye  of  man ;  we  build 
and  furnish  fine  houses  for  the  eye  of  man;  we  sur- 
round ourselves  with  splendors  of  art  to  meet  the  eye 
of  man;  make  science,  philosophy,  and  literature  for 
the  applause  of  man.  We  are  drudges  for  money  to 
support  it  all,  and  so,  moved  by  praise,  we  build  up  the 
world.  It  is  a  magical  passion,  in  short,  which  works 
more  wonders  in  an  hour  than  all  the  magicians ;  but, 
like  everything  else  within  us,  it  has  gone  wrong.  Man 
usurps  the  whole  field  of  our  vision,  and  God  is  left  out. 
We  love  ''  the  praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of 
God." 

There  is  no  blame  expressed  for  our  loving  the  praise 
of  men,  but  for  loving  it  more  than  the  praise  of  God. 
We  were  made  to  be  alive  to  the  approbation  of  man 
as  well  as  of  God,  not  of  one  but  of  both,  —  alive,  how- 
ever, to  the  lower  while  under  and  ruled  by  the  higher. 
But  our  whole  hearts  have  gone  to  man,  and  we  "  wor- 


MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE.     21/ 

ship  and  serve  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator.'* 
It  would  not  be  so  bad  to  sink  down  and  be  governed 
by  man's  opinion  if  we  confined  ourselves  to  the  right 
sort  of  men.  There  is  something  very  high  in  approv- 
ing ourselves  to  the  best  society  of  the  earth;  but 
usually  we  care  little  for  that.  It  is  the  poor  opinion 
of  some  little  set  we  care  for;  and  the  lower  their  aims 
and  the  lower  their  taste,  so  they  be  in  vogue,  the  more 
naturally  are  they  our  gods;  for  the  worshipper  and 
the  god  must  be  somewhat  on  a  level.  We  hear  the 
slightest  whisper  of  this  low,  petty  opinion  as  if  we  had 
diseased  ears ;  and  we  feel  the  poorest  sneer  or  laugh  as 
if  we  were  cut  by  the  sting  of  a  whip.  Oh,  teach  your 
child  contempt  for  mean  opinion !  Give  to  his  nature  a 
manly  hardihood  to  throw  it  off  as  water  from  a  rock. 

I  read  very  early  in  my  youth  a  novel  of  which  I  re- 
member only  the  motto,  but  that  is  ineffaceable, — 
**  They  say.  What  say  they?  Let  them  say."  Where 
the  favor  of  man  is  made  the  object  of  the  soul,  ask 
three  questions  about  it,  —  What  is  it?  What  can  it 
do?     How  can  it  be  got? 

Is  it  pure,  discerning,  judicious  opinion  we  are  swayed 
by?  Nay,  it  is  impure,  undiscerning,  trifling.  Or  is  it 
honest  and  heartfeh?  Nay,  it  is  shallow  and  from  the 
lips.  Or  is  it  honorable,  faithful,  steady?  Nay,  ''  favor 
is  deceitful."  Alas!  who  has  not  felt  its  changes?  I 
once  had  near  my  window  a  beautiful  tree,  which  became 
at  last  like  a  living,  conscious  thing  to  me.  I  used  to 
watch  it  in  the  summer.     How  graciously  the  soft  airs 


2l8    MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE. 

caressed  it  and  played  with  it !  But  in  the  winter  the 
airs  were  turned  into  raging  winds,  which  tore  it  and 
rent  it.  So  the  same  kindly  opinion  which  in  the  sweet 
summer  comes  as  a  breeze  and  whispers  about  us  and 
moves  the  world  of  leaves  with  beauty  and  grace,  —  the 
same  treacherous  air  soon  comes  as  the  winter's  wind, 
seizes  and  strips  the  tree,  buffets  and  harasses  and 
strains  it,  through  the  dark  days  and  stormy  nights. 
Such  are  the  changes  of  human  favor. 

"  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
As  man's  ingratitude  ; 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 
As  benefits  forgot." 

And  what  can  this  favor  do  for  us?  Much,  I  grant; 
but  can  it  do  anything  in  great  emergencies?  If  not, 
then  at  best  it  is  not  beyond  a  holiday  good.  And  then, 
see  how  hard  a  thing  it  is  to  get.  A  mere  chance  con- 
trols it,  for  the  judge  who  awards  it  is  blind,  or  corrupt 
and  won't  see.  Nay,  and  look  at  the  expense  of  it,  —  the 
expense  of  sorrow  and  pain  to  others  who  are  my  rivals, 
I  treading  them  down ;  and  then  the  expensive  waste  in 
the  prostitution  of  myself,  for  no  man  reaches  this  favor 
and  keeps  it,  and  keeps  also  himself  unspoiled. 

I  might  grant,  then,  that  the  favor  of  man  is  a  sweet 
and  good  thing,  but  when  it  is  made  the  first  thing, 
I  see  unhappincss  follow  in  every  sphere ;  I  see  how 
this  poor  mistaken  creature,  aspiring  and  aspiring,  only 


MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE.    219 

meets  disappointments;  I  see  how  after  a  world  of 
efforts  and  anxieties  he  is  pitilessly  forgotten  or  even 
sneered  out  of  the  world.  And  oh,  think  of  the  sin  of  it, 
of  the  vulgar  pride  and  impudence  of  success,  of  the 
black  discontent  and  malignity  of  failure  ! 

The  text  was  uttered  about  whom?  About  the  high- 
est men  in  Judea.  ''  Nevertheless,  among  the  chief 
rulers  also  many  believed  on  him ;  but  because  of  the 
Pharisees  they  did  not  confess  him ;  ...  for  they  loved 
the  praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of  God."  They 
preferred  that  the  highest  Being  their  eyes  had  ever 
seen  should  go  on  unrecognized,  persecuted,  outcast, 
and  exposed  to  death,  because  the  fashion  was  against 
him,  and  they  were  afraid  to  risk  anything  of  their 
precious  position  in  the  synagogue.  Yes,  and  all  our 
best  native  impulses  are  thus  forced  down  because  we 
also  are  afraid.  Nay,  we  sink  even  below  honor  and 
common  tone  because  we  are  afraid  of  man. 

And  who  is  this  of  whom  we  are  afraid,  —  this  crea- 
ture ignorant  in  his  eyes,  and  feeble  or  malignant  in  his 
heart?  Who  is  he?  What  is  he?  **  Afraid  of  a  man 
that  shall  die,  and  of  the  son  of  man  which  shall  be 
made  as  grass,  and  forget  the  Lord  our  Maker !  "  Oh, 
we  foolish  little  people  who  can't  be  happy  and  can't 
even  be  manly  until  other  foolish  people  allow  us  to  be ! 
Trimming  our  souls  to  suit  others ;  harassing  ourselves 
to  the  bone  to  meet  somebody's  approval ;  striving  with 
our  fellow  in  a  sort  of  hostile  scramble  for  the  crumbs 
of  the  world's  favor,  or  pining  and  bitter  if  it  is  lost ! 


220     MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE, 

He  who  waits  on  God  is  nothing  of  this  style  of  per- 
son. Praise  or  blame  falls  off  the  surface  of  his  soul 
whose  whole  being  is  a  love  and  a  fear  of  something 
infinitely  lovelier  than  your  praise  and  infinitely  more 
fearful  than  your  blame.  He  that  waiteth  on  the  Lord 
renews  his  strength.  He  likes  kindly  opinion,  of  course, 
especially  of  high-thinking  people,  but  he  can  do  with- 
out even  that. 

All  the  world  thinks  highly  of  George  Washington 
to-day.  His  life  is  a  good  book  to  read,  especially  for 
Americans.  I  wish  we  would  read  it,  and  think  as  we 
read,  for  there  is  far  more  real  religion  in  his  life  than  in 
most  religious  books.  The  chief  thing  I  find  about  him 
is  that  he  had  a  higher  instinct  than  for  praise.  At  all 
times,  but  especially  during  the  struggle  of  the  war,  he 
had  hard  things  to  bear.  He  was  misunderstood,  un- 
derrated by  inferior  men,  conspired  against,  traduced; 
yet  his  course  is  marked  throughout  by  a  singular  mag- 
nanimity towards  enemies  and  towards  lukewarm  friends. 
Did  he  not  feel?  He  deeply  felt  all  the  baseness,  bwt 
he  had  a  deeper  feeling;  namely,  that  he  could  step 
down  and  forfeit  everything  with  equanimity  because  he 
sought  something  higher  even  than  honorable  fame,  — 
the  good  of  his  country,  obedience  to  duty,  the  will  of 
God. 

So  it  is  with  every  Christian  man.  If  there  Is  a  storm 
without,  he  knows  a  divine  pavilion  whereunto  he  may 
always  resort.  Paul  said,  "  With  me  it  is  a  very  small 
thing   that   I    should    be  judged  of  you,    or   of  man's 


MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE,    221 

judgment."  That  seems  like  pride.  No,  it  was  pure 
height.  It  was  the  same  spirit  as  his  Master's.  His 
Master  loved  true  praise,  —  loved  the  recognition  of 
right  souls.  Never  was  there  a  more  spontaneous  out- 
burst of  satisfaction  than  when  he  found  that  Simon 
Peter  recognized  him  —  recognized  his  value  —  who  he 
was.  *'Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God." 
''  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jona:  for  flesh  and  blood 
hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is 
in  heaven."  Yet  he  could  do  without  recognition,  and 
when  there  was  not  one  voice  to  hail  him,  when  the 
world  was  unanimous  against  him,  in  that  solitude  of 
the  earth,  "They  have  left  me  alone,"  he  said,  "yet  I 
am  not  alone,  because  the  Father  is  with  me."  When 
he  heard  nothing  but  one  loud  hiss  from  the  earth,  he 
said,  "  I  do  always  those  things  that  please  him." 

Who  wants  peace,  then?  Who  wants  dignity  of  life? 
Let  him  follow  Christ,  approve  himself  to  God,  and  be 
at  peace.  He  who  does  that  has  reached  three  things. 
He  can  do  without  man ;  that  is  something.  Next,  he 
can  be  firm  and  even  content  if  you  give  him  a  bad 
name,  —  the  hardest  trial  a  sensitive  spirit  ever  meets. 
Nay,  beyond  this  he  can  say,  —  at  least  there  was  one 
who  could,  —  "I  can  glory  in  shame." 

Oh,  if  a  man  can  ever  live  to  say,  "  I  care  much  for 
good  opinion,  but  I  care  more  to  do  right,  and  I  care 
more  still  for  the  opinion  of  God ;  I  live  and  labor 
through  the  hours  of  each  day^  not  so  much  to  be 
greater  in  any  man's  eyes,  —  to  be  a  little  richer,  a  little 


222     MAN'S  PRAISE  MORE  THAN  GOD'S  PRAISE. 

more  distinguished,  —  but  to  be  a  little  more  just,  more 
magnanimous,  more  generous,  for  God  loves  gener- 
osity, magnanimity,  and  justice;  and  if  I  strive  to  do 
those  things  he  loves,  he  will  be  merciful  to  me  in  all 
my  sins,  even  as  I  am  merciful  to  others,  and  his  di- 
vine redemption  will  cleanse  me  from  all  stains,  —  thus 
loving  the  praise  of  God  more  than  the  praise  of  men, 
thus  studying  to  show  myself  approved  unto  God, 
thus  seeking  for  true  honor  and  immortality,  the  result 
will  be  that,  whether  living,  dying,  or  dead,  I  shall 
have  honor  and  immortality;  that  is,  his  gracious  ap- 
proval, his  countenance  which  is  life,  his  reconciled 
presence  where  there  is  fulness  of  joy  and  pleasures 
forevermore." 


XXII. 

THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

And  behold,  a  certain  lawyer  stood  up,  and  tejnpted  him,  saying, 
Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?  etc.  —  Luke  x. 
25-38. 


A 


CERTAIN  lawyer  stood  up,  and  tempted 
him,"  —  put  him  to  the  test.  Why  ?  Be- 
cause the  freedom  and  originality  of  Christ's  words  — 
breaking  into  sabbatical  views,  etc.  —  had  made  him 
the  great  heretic  of  the  day  to  the  orthodox  Jew ;  so 
it  is  quite  curious  to  see  the  numerous  attempts  made 
to  test  him.  This  testing  was  usually  from  malice,  and 
a  wish  to  destroy  his  authority,  sometimes  from  curios- 
ity and  fondness  for  debate,  and  in  the  present  case 
possibly  from  a  real  desire  to  learn. 

*' Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life?" 
It  seems  an  inquiry  personal  and  serious.  And  the 
Master  answered,  "What  is  written  in  the  law?  how 
readest  thou?"  He  referred  him  to  Moses;  for  in  the 
spirit  of  true  progress  he  assumed  as  little  as  possible 
the  position  of  an  original  authority,  and  always  based 
the  new  gospel  on  a  higher  interpretation  and  develop- 
ment of  the  old  truth.  "  And  the  lawyer,  answering, 
said  unto  him,  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 


224  I^HE   GOOD   SAMARITAN. 

all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind;  and  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself." 

Now  this  masterly  falling  back  from  Ihe  tree  to  its 
root,  from  the  whole  world  of  Jewish  law,  which  spread 
like  the  branchery  of  a  huge  tree,  to  its  two  great 
trunks  or  roots,  and  then  the  naming  of  these,  not  fear 
to  God  and  justice  to  man,  but  love,  —  this  magnifi- 
cent reduction  to  great  principles  we  often  ascribe  to 
Christ;  but  I  think  we  err  in  doing  so,  for  it  is  here 
found  in  the  mouth  of  a  Jew  as  a  thing  commonly  un- 
derstood, and  it  is  clearly  found  in  the  books  of  Leviti- 
cus and  Deuteronomy.  Still,  though  it  was  known, 
practically  it  was  not  known.  It  was  only  grasped  at  by 
a  few,  and  not  practically  realized  even  by  them.  But 
from  the  lips  of  Christ  it  took  a  new  reality.  As  he 
spoke  it,  the  moral  law  was  not  only  brought  to  its 
deepest  roots  and  made  complete,  but  it  was  also  made 
the  law  of  the  heart.  Yet  no ;  not  quite  complete. 
One  great  point  was  still  left  undetermined.  Love  to 
God,  love  to  my  neighbor,  the  substance  of  the  law 
was.  Yes;  but  who  is  my  neighbor?  In  the  old  time 
under  Moses  it  was,  not  man,  but  a  brother-Hebrew. 
Nay,  narrower  than  that,  it  was  confined  to  Hebrews 
not  unclean,  not  slaves,  etc.  Even  when  ages  had  gone 
by,  and  when  prophets  seemed  to  catch  wider  glimpses, 
broad  lightning-flashes  of  duty,  illuminating  a  broader 
neighborhood,  a  wider  landscape  of  humanity,  it  was, 
like  the  lightning,  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  the 


THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN.  225 

broad  vision  seemed  to  contract  itself  again  into  as  nar- 
row a  neighborhood  as  at  the  first,  so  that  at  the  time 
of  Christ  the  wall  of  partition  still  rose  around  them 
like  a  citadel  thronged  with  fiery  shapes  of  hate,  of 
prejudice,  of  war,  against  the  whole  earth. 

The  Jews,  then,  needed  two  things :  First,  towards 
God,  they  needed  the  word  "  love  "  in  place  of  all  other 
words;  Secondly,  they  needed  that  the  word  "  neigh- 
bor" should  be  interpreted  by  a  wide  heart.  So  the 
lawyer  who  asked  "Who  is  my  neighbor?"  asked  the 
question  which  the  Hebrew  race  at  that  critical  epoch 
was  bound  to  answer;  for  the  penalty  of  the  human 
race  was  about  to  fall  on  the  unneighborly,  narrow 
Jew,  as  upon  the  hater  of  the  human  race.  The  Roman 
eagle,  turned  into  the  Roman  vulture,  was  waiting  for 
its  victim.  A  question  then  indeed  it  was,  "  Master, 
who  is  my  neighbor?"  The  answer  is  the  parable  of 
the  Good  Samaritan. 

This  answer  is,  in  the  manner  of  Christ,  a  little  story, 
a  brief  word ;  and  we  will  consider  it.  The  answer  might 
have  been  a  dry  definition ;  but,  far  from  that,  it  came 
from  Christ's  heart  in  the  shape  of  a  story  filled  with 
imagination  and  feeling.  **  A  certain  man  went  down 
from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho."  Immediately  the  crowd 
around  him  are  lost  in  eager  interest.  It  is  to  be  the 
story  of  a  man  travelling  a  fearful  road,  which  de- 
scended from  the  heights  of  Jerusalem,  and  going  down 
through  gorges  and  abrupt  defiles  was  the  chosen  haunt 
of  wild  robbers  and  was  well  known  as  a  terror.     ''  A 

15 


226  THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN. 

certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  and 
fell  among  thieves,  which  stripped  him  of  his  raiment, 
and  wounded  him,  and  departed,  leaving  him  half 
dead."  It  is  done ;  there  he  lies,  wounded,  frightened, 
helpless.  But  "  by  chance  there  came  down  a  certain 
priest  that  way."  There  was  a  great  station  for  priests 
down  at  Jericho,  and  one  of  their  number  was  now 
travelling  up  to  his  duties  in  the  temple.  The  poor 
wounded  creature,  at  the  side  of  the  road,  lying  and 
listening,  hears  the  coming  of  some  one.  It  is  a  priest, 
the  first  sight  of  whom  seems  life ;  but  —  "  when  he 
saw  him,  he  passed  by  on  the  other  side."  He  instinc- 
tively shrunk;  he  would  not  even  go  near:  ''on  the 
other  side."  Like  many  priests,  like  many  people,  he 
caught  the  scent  of  distant  trouble,  and  kept  clean  out 
of  it.  No  man  of  impulse  he  !  a  well-controlled  person  ! 
the  other  side  suited  him  better.  He  ''  passed  by,"  and 
we  see  him  recede  up  the  road  with  dignified  mien. 
He  is  on  high  church  duty  up  at  Jerusalem:  these 
things  must  not  stop  him.  Excuses  of  course  he  made 
to  himself,  for  our  great  relief  is  in  excuses  and  reasons. 
''  To  touch  blood  will  make  me  unclean ;  I  can't  afford 
this  delay;  there  is  danger  here,  I  must  hasten  on." 
So  he  goes. 

And  likewise  a  Levlte  came,  a  sacred  person  also; 
but  he,  ''  when  he  was  at  the  place,  came  and  looked 
on  him."  Some  touch  of  nature  drew  him  so  far  as 
to  come  and  look,  but  no  farther.  I  do  not  know 
which  is  worse,  —  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  the  ap- 


THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  22/ 

peal  of  human  need,  or  to  be  drawn  near  and  then 
reject  it. 

"  But  a  certain  Samaritan  —  "  At  this  point  of  the 
story  there  was  a  thrill  of  feeling  in  every  Jewish  heart 
that  listened.  What  will  the  Samaritan  do?  You  know 
about  the  Samaritans :  they  were  mongrel  Jews,  with 
a  mongrel  Jewish  religion,  intensely  hated  by  the  Jew 
and  intensely  hating  him.  So  of  course  there  was  a 
thrill  of  expectation.  If  the  Jew  is  no  brother  to  a 
Jew,  if  the  sacred  priest  and  Levite  pass  by,  what  will 
be  said  of  the  detested  Samaritan?  "But  a  certain 
Samaritan,  as  he  journeyed,  came  where  he  was;  and 
w^hen  he  saw  him,  he  had  compassion  on  him,  and  went 
to  him,  and  bound  up  his  wounds,  pouring  in  oil  and 
wine,  and  set  him  on  his  own  beast,  and  brought  him 
to  an  inn,  and  took  care  of  him.  And  on  the  morrow, 
when  he  departed,"  —  he  stayed  all  night  there  with 
him,  it  seems, —  "he  took  out  two  pence,  and  gave 
them  to  the  host,  and  said  unto  him,  Take  care  of 
him :  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest  more,  when  I  come 
again,  I  will  repay  thee." 

Here  the  parable  finishes.  Obser\^e  the  instinctive 
art  in  the  form  of  this  story,  —  especially  in  this,  that 
most  of  its  details  are  so  sober  and  unromantic.  Xo 
exaggeration,  for  example,  no  ovenvrought  bad  treat- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  priest  and  the  Levite,  and  on 
the  other  hand  no  overAvrought  excellence  on  the  part 
of  the  Samaritan,  no  blackening  of  the  bad  or  ideal- 
izing of  the  good,  but  all  kept  true  to  life.     This  won- 


228  THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

derful  Samaritan,  the  very  model  and  transcendence  of 
humanity  for  all  time,  says  not  one  sentimental  word ; 
he  is  quiet,  moderate,  a  very  practical  person,  as  thor- 
oughly good  people  are  apt  to  be,  and  he  is  altogether 
unlike  what  the  ordinary  novelist  would  make  him. 
He  says  nothing  beautiful;  he  does  nothing  profuse. 
He  does  not  leave  a  purse  of  gold;  he  gives  but  two 
pence,  —  an  adequate  sum,  no  doubt,  for  present  need, 
but  nothing  over ;  and  if  more  should  be  required,  he 
will  repay  it  on  his  return. 

It  is  just  a  picture  of  a  worthy  traveller  on  that  road, 
a  man  nobly  kind,  but  judicious  and  careful,  —  a  picture 
reminding  us  of  De  Foe.  Now,  all  this  instinctive  sober- 
ness keeps  the  story  out  of  the  region  of  romance,  and 
gives  a  sense  of  reality  to  the  substance  of  it.  For  the 
romantic,  or  imaginative,  while  it  may  seem  to  exalt 
virtue,  makes  it  at  once  in  a  manner  unreal  and  hard 
to  practise,  and  the  whole  New  Testament  is  a  deep, 
unconscious  protest  against  the  romantic.  It  is  not  in 
the  great  splendid  manner  of  the  prophets,  but  quiet, 
because  under  a  fine  disguise  the  imagination  is  felt  to 
be  a  real  foe  to  the  plain,  pure  heart  of  Christ,  to  the 
simplicity  of  righteousness.  The  good  Samaritan  is  a 
character  which  might  have  been  dipped  in  the  hues 
and  splendors  of  an  angel;  yet  Christ's  story  makes 
him  but  a  worthy,  homesoun  man,  all  ideal  glory 
veiled. 

Here,  then,  is  a  picture  of  three   neighbors,  —  the 
priest,  the  Levlte,  and  the  Samaritan;    and  here,  as  I 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  229 

said,  the  parable  ends,  Christ  just  asking  the  lawyer 
which  he  chooses.  ''  Which  now  of  these  three,  think- 
est  thou,  was  neighbor  unto  him  that  fell  among  the 
thieves?  " 

We  must  pause  here,  for  this  question  is  curious. 
The  original  inquiry  of  the  lawyer  was,  "  Who  is  my 
neighbor?  —  who  are  these  persons  whom  you  say,  and 
the  old  law  says,  I  must  love  as  myself  ?  how  wide  is 
my  neighborhood?  what  number  of  objects  must  I  take 
in?"  — the  real  feeling  in  the  heart  being,  ''How  few 
can  demand  my  love?  how  may  I  make  this  terrible 
duty  of  loving  everybody  easy  by  restricting  it?  "  The 
story  in  answer  to  this  shows  how  widely  a  certain 
Samaritan  felt,  shows  his  beautiful  mercy  to  his  worst 
enemy,  so  that  every  heart,  however  prejudiced,  must 
approve  him  and  say,  "  Yes ;  this  heart  of  unbounded 
love  is  the  true  neighbor,  and  every  one  who  has  need 
of  his  love  and  pity  is  their  fit  object;  "  and  so  the 
question  is  answered,  not  by  showing  how  few  I  can 
confine  my  love  to,  how  narrow  I  can  draw  the  line,  but 
showing  that  true  love  widens  out  to  all  want ;  that  the 
neighborhood  of  man,  as  the  neighborhood  of  God, 
spontaneously  extends  itself  to  all  who  need,  be  they 
foes  or  devils.  O  Jewish  lawyer,  you  who  are  seek- 
ing out  how  little  you  can  do  and  yet  keep  the  com- 
mandment; you  who  try  to  obey  it  in  some  other  way 
than  through  the  wide  heart  of  charity  spreading  every- 
where, saying,  "  How  narrow  and  selfish  and  hard  can 
I  be  and  yet  get  through?  "  you  who  seek  to  obey  the 


230  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

law  through  some  other  way  than  love,  which  is  the  only 
fulfilling  of  the  law,  and  doing  it  that  you  may  inherit 
eternal  life,  and  not  at  all  that  you  care  about  your 
neighbor,  —  I  tell  you  all  you  are  wrong.  I  show  you 
two  pictures  of  sacred  Jews  like  yourself,  —  one  a  priest, 
one  a  Levite,  who  have  gone  on  in  your  way,  in  your 
spirit,  and  end  by  being  neighbor  to  nobody  but  them- 
selves, and  leave  the  wounded  brother  dying  in  the 
highway ;  and  I  show  you  another  picture  of  a  Samari- 
tan rescuing  a  Jew  on  the  road,  before  whose  love  all 
partitions  fall  down,  who,  not  thinking  perhaps  of  his 
own  eternal  life  at  all,  realizes  need,  and  feels  for  it 
and  goes  out  to  it. 

The  chief  point  which  remains  to  be  considered  is, 
that  Christ  pictures  to  Jews  the  true  neighbor  as  a 
Samaritan.  Dwell  a  moment  there.  Did  you  ever 
think  what  effect  it  would  have  had  if,  in  telling  us  this 
story,  he  had  made  the  neighborly  man  a  Jew,  —  a  Jew 
who  was  kind  to  a  Samaritan?  Though  the  lesson 
would  still  have  been  a  good  one,  and  taught  the  Jew 
to  be  catholic  and  pitiful,  the  effect  would  have  been  to 
sustain  his  pride  and  narrowness  of  heart :  a  great  and 
hard  sort  of  neighborliness,  but  at  least  it  was  a  Jew 
who  did  it.  Thus  a  wide  pity,  though  in  itself  distaste- 
ful, might  have  been  reluctantly  accepted  as  a  Jewish 
virtue,  an  act  of  grace  from  the  proud  nation  to  the 
world. 

The  true  neighbor  of  whom  Christ  tells  us  is  a 
Samaritan,  and,  according  to   all   Jewish  belief,  half  a 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  23 1 

heathen,  half  a  heretic.  It  shows,  first,  Christ's  most 
noble  justice  in  judging  enemies,  and  especially  in 
judging  heretics.  The  highest  soul  he  pictures  is  in  the 
worst  heretic  a  Jew  could  think  of,  a  Samaritan.  What 
a  lesson  of  burning  shame  to  those  ages  which  have 
judged  a  man,  no  matter  what  his  heart  was,  entirely 
according  to  his  belief!  Believe  with  me  and  you  are 
right;    believe  against  me  and  you  are  wrong. 

This  significant  fact  of  the  Good  Samaritan  gives 
also  a  just  sense  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  where  otherwise 
there  would  be  some  doubt.  There  are  some  things 
which  he  says  and  does  in  the  Gospels  which  look 
Jewish,  and  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  suppose  that 
the  portrait  of  the  Son  of  God,  being  drawn  by  Jew- 
ish hands,  has  caught  Jewish  colors;  but  this  parable 
clears  all. 

I  wish  we  could  even  for  a  moment  view  Jesus  Christ 
as  he  was.  It  would  then  need  no  doctrines  of  the 
Church  to  bring  us  all  to  our  knees.  Christ  was  a  Jew, 
and  in  many  respects  the  intensest  spirit  and  aft*ections 
of  a  Jew  were  in  him ;  but  he  was  so  widely  and  beauti- 
fully ''  the  Son  of  man,"  that  he  chooses  the  object  of 
his  admiration  —  the  man  who  is  to  represent  forever  his 
own  soul,  the  soul  of  the  true  neighbor  —  from  among 
the  "■  dogs  and  enemies "  outside,  and  in  the  teeth  of 
envenomed  Jewish  spite  he  sets  a  heretic  up  for  love 
and  reverence.  No  man  nowadays  can  rightly  conceive 
it ;  for  no  man  can  know  the  depth  of  prejudice  to  be 
overcome  in  order  to  reach  such  sublime  elevation. 


232  THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

Our  prejudices  are  even  yet  strong  enough,  but  the 
prejudices  of  antiquity  and  of  the  East  are  worn  smooth 
in  these  modern  times;  the  gall  is  now  almost  made 
milk.  The  spirit  of  the  Good  Samaritan  has  passed 
from  the  lips  of  Christ  into  the  atmosphere  of  the 
modern  world,  so  that  we  do  not  know  what  the  Jewish 
spirit  was  in  the  time  of  Christ.  So  we  can  never 
reproduce  the  force  of  the  fact  that  Christ  made  his 
ideal  good  man  a  man  who,  as  to  half  of  the  law,  was 
a  heretic.  He  depicts  as  the  highest  neighbor  the  man 
who  can  put  every  prejudice  under  his  feet.  Thus  he 
makes  the  test  of  the  true  neighbor  that  he  shall  be  a 
neighbor  in  spite  of  all  that  is  against  it.  According  to 
this,  let  us  judge  our  own  conduct.  If  we  are  kind  to 
people  who  are  pleasing  to  us,  that  is  something,  I  don't 
deny  it ;  but  until  we  go  much  further  and  are  kind  in 
spite  of  personal,  social,  and  religious  prejudice,  we  are 
not  the  true  neighbor.  **  For  if  ye  love  them  which 
love  you,  what  reward  have  ye?  do  not  even  the 
publicans  the  same?  And  if  ye  salute  your  brethren 
only,  what  do  ye  more  than  others?"  You  must  be 
something  much  higher  than  this,  even  ''the  children 
of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven :  for  he  maketh  his 
sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good,  and  sendeth 
rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust." 

Who  is  my  neighbor?  Look  at  a  Samaritan  rescuing 
a  Jew  on  the  high-road.  He  lifts  his  worst  enemy;  he 
washes  the  wounds,  he  helps  the  bruised  and  broken 
man  on  to  his  own  beast ;   he  braves  all  the  dangers  of 


THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN.  233 

the  road ;  and  then  goes  his  way,  ready  to  do  a  like 
service  to  any  one  else.  Who  is  my  neighbor?  Ask 
the  South,  the  long-afflicted  South,  covered  so  long 
with  the  pall  of  sorrow,  sprinkled  by  blood,  —  ask  it  to- 
day, after  the  scourges  of  war  have  afflicted  it,  ask  it  in 
this  awful  pestilence,  "Who  is  your  neighbor?"  It  will 
answer,  "■  The  noble  men  and  women  among  us  who 
do  not  desert  us,  the  whole  Howard  Association, 
etc."  Above  all,  perhaps  it  will  answer,  —  God  grant 
it  may,  — "  The  North,  lately  the  enemy,  lately  the 
hated  Samaritan,  but  now  by  its  grand  munificence 
lifting  its  bruised  and  broken  Southern  brother,  washing 
his  wounds,  and  ministering  to  his  necessities.  This  is 
my  neighbor."  Last  of  all,  if  you  will  know  your 
neighbor,  look  at  the  divine  Samaritan,  Christ.  To  the 
human  heart  he  is  a  Samaritan  with  "■  no  form  nor 
comeliness,"  something  we  are  averse  to,  a  Samaritan 
to  the  proud  human  race;  yet  he  is  the  neighbor,  "  the 
express  image  "  of  the  returning  God,  of  the  redeeming 
God,  who  comes  near  to  suffering  humanity,  who  stoops 
to  lift  the  wounded,  and  at  the  cost  of  his  own  blood 
exhibits,  to  each  of  us  who  need,  the  infinite  mercy 
and  neighborhood  which  is  over  all  men. 


XXIII. 
WIDER  VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

There  was  a  certain  man  in  Cesarea,  called  Cornelius,  a  centurion 
of  the  band  called  the  Italian  band,  a  devout  man,  and  one 
that  feared  God  with  all  his  house,  which  gave  much  alms  to 
the  people,  and  prayed  to  God  always,  etc.  —  Acts  x.  1-48. 

THE  subject  is  the  opening  of  the  mind  of  Peter, 
and  with  him,  of  the  Jewish  Christians  generally 
(for  he  was  the  head,  *'  the  apostle  of  the  circumci- 
sion "),  to  the  world  outside.  Christianity  among  the 
Jews  had  two  great  stages  of  difficulty :  First,  when  it 
aimed  to  enter  the  Jewish  mind  at  all ;  Second,  when  it 
aimed  to  expand  the  Jewish  Christian  to  the  wide  views 
of  Christianity  as  it  now  is.  In  fact,  these  two  things 
are  one ;  namely,  the  full  conversion  of  the  Jews. 
But  there  were  many  gradations  in  this  great  passage 
from  Judaism  to  Christianity.  During  the  life  of  Christ 
some  accepted  him  as  a  prophet,  some  as  the  prophet, 
and  some,  like  Peter,  ''  the  Christ,"  advancing  once 
so  high  as  to  say  that  he  was  ''  the  Son  of  the  living 
God." 

But  after  all,  the  sense  of  who  he  was,  and  particularly 
of  what  his  religion  was,  at  the  time  of  the  crucifixion, 
was  low  and  obscure,  even  to  the  topmost  apostle.    And 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  235 

after  the  Lord  had  risen,  and  the  disciples  were  com- 
missioned and  illuminated,  —  after  all  this  process 
they  stood  on  the  first  stage  only ;  there  yet  remained 
the  second,  namely,  to  reach  the  conviction  that  the 
Messiah  was  for  all  the  world  equally,  that  the  Jew 
was  no  better  than  the  Gentile,  that  the  old  sacred 
faith  was  to  be  put  aside. 

It  was  not  so  difficult  to  become  a  Christian  as  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Gentiles  could  become  Christians.  This 
was  so  unexpected,  so  contrary  to  every  prejudice,  even 
the  best,  that  it  seemed  the  wildest  sacrilege,  a  mere  in- 
fidel radicalism ;  and  every  personal  feeling  and  habit, 
as  well  as  the  whole  conscience  of  the  Jew,  rose  up 
against  it.  Separation  was  the  very  soul  of  the  laws  of 
Moses.  It  was  not,  to  be  sure,  peculiar  to  the  Jews :  it 
belonged  to  all  antiquity,  to  the  Greeks  and  Latins,  but 
especially  in  the  case  of  the  Jew  separation  was  his 
glory,  and  the  Hebrew  idea  was,  purity  and  strength 
through  this  exclusiveness ;  but  the  new  doctrine  of 
Christ  was,  purity  and  power  through  inclusiveness. 

The  old  system,  with  its  precious  truths  at  its  centre, 
derived  its  security  from  a  sort  of  selfish  rejection  of  the 
whole  world.  In  the  weakness  of  men  as  to  idolatry,  — 
for  we  are  all  naturally  idolaters,  and  this  tendency  was 
then  the  master  religious  instinct  of  the  world,  —  the  truth 
and  virtue  of  the  unidolatrous  religion  were  only  saved 
by  seclusion.  Its  challenge  was,  "  Stand  off!  "  But  the 
new  and  more  heavenly  religion  had  a  different  heart; 
it  had  a  new  and  strange  spirit ;  it  could  afford  to  em- 


236  WIDER    VIEWS  OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

brace  all,  and  give  itself  to  all,  with  an  innocent  fearless- 
ness; it  calculated  not  the  dangers  of  scattering  itself 
through  a  profane  world,  but,  sublime  in  generosity  and 
boldness,  committed  itself  to  all  mankind. 

So  unlike  this  was  the  ancient  system  that  even  the 
Jewish  vineyards  could  not  be  sown  with  divers  seeds; 
for  a  mingling  of  seeds  and  of  fruits,  it  was  thought, 
would  defile.  The  ox  and  the  ass  could  not  plough 
together,  nor  a  man  wear  garments  of  divers  materials, 
as  woollen  and  linen.  These  every-day  customs  were 
emblems  of  the  one  great  rule  of  the  race,  separation. 

Here,  however,  one  may  say,  "  But  Christianity  is  a 
development  of  Judaism."  The  answer  is:  This  is  true, 
but  only  in  respect  to  the  great  germs  planted  in  the 
old  religion  ;  not  as  to  much  in  the  institutions  and  spirit 
of  the  Mosaic  law,  and  certainly  not  as  to  the  way  in 
which  it  was  held.  Christianity  in  its  pure  spirituality 
and  in  its  openness,  instead  of  being  a  development  of 
Judaism,  stands  as  its  precise  opposite :  the  one,  of  ne- 
cessity, selfish  and  timid,  —  I  mean  comparatively  so, — 
the  other  all  disinterestedness  and  boldness  and  love; 
the  one  national,  the  other  for  the  human  race ;  the  one 
for  some  ages  and  some  places,  the  other  for  all  time 
and  for  the  whole  world. 

Such  being  the  opposite  spirit  of  the  two  religions, 
especially  then,  when  God's  old  faith  had  dwindled  into 
Pharisaism,  they  came  together  with  the  hiss  and  explo- 
sion of  fire  and  water. 

To  such  a  people  as  the  Jews,  having  been  such  for 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  21J 

ages,  to  preach  communion,  equality,  was,  next  to  blas- 
phemy, the  highest  irrcligion  and  the  worst  immorality. 
What !  to  put  aside  Abraham  and  the  sacred  race ;  to 
put  aside  Moses  and  the  holy  institutions,  and  to  per- 
mit the  awful  temple  to  vanish  as  a  mere  architectural 
mass  seen  in  the  clouds  at  the  setting  of  the  sun;  to 
profane  the  sacred  Jewish  land ;  to  break  down  the 
walls  of  partition;  to  make  the  holy  Jew  unclean;  to 
give  up  every  Jewish  hope,  —  in  one  word,  that  the  Jew 
should  cease  to  be  a  Jew,  —  why,  this  shocked  patriotism 
and  pride,  abolished  instincts,  habits,  and  hopes,  and, 
far  more  than  all,  shook  the  conscience  to  its  founda- 
tions; violated,  I  may  say,  the  bodily  conscience  as  to 
cleanness  and  separation,  and  the  mental  conscience  as 
to  almost  everything  deemed  sacred!  Why,  if  you  re- 
quired the  Greek  to  forget  Athens,  the  Roman  to  deny 
Rome,  the  Hindu  to  profane  his  sense  of  caste,  which 
is  as  deep  as  his  life,  —  all  this  united  would  not  be  more 
than  to  ask  the  real  Jew  to  cease  to  be  a  Jew ! 

We  may  think  that  at  the  time  of  which  these  chap- 
ters speak,  when  the  Messiah  was  accepted,  this  great 
work  of  unjudaizing  the  Jew,  unmaking  him,  had  al- 
ready been  done.  Not  so.  When  the  first  disciples 
accepted  the  Messiah,  this,  so  far  from  making  them 
less  Jews,  only  deepened  many  Jewish  feelings  and 
hopes,  so  that  when  the  true  character  of  Christianity 
developed  itself,  and  they  began  to  perceive  that  it  was 
for  the  world,  and  that  Judaism  must  be  left  behind, — 
then  arose  that  profound  struggle  the  history  of  which 


238  WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

is  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  annals  of  the 
human  mind.  So  astonishing  was  the  idea  that  even 
Paul  speaks  of  it  as  the  mystery  which  hath  been  hid 
from  ages,  and  is  now  made  known,  —  an  idea  that  is 
so  foreign  to  the  Jewish  heart  that  God,  who  had  great 
purposes  to  answer  by  this  ancient  religion,  could  not, 
from  the  foundations  of  the  world,  risk  that  even  a 
whisper  of  this  idea  should  be  generally  known,  or  his 
whole  scheme  would  fly  to  pieces. 

But  as  the  Jew  was  thus  of  necessity  narrow,  why 
was  it  that  the  Christian  seed  should  be  planted  in 
these  strait  iron  vessels,  where  either  the  great  tree  must 
perish,  or  the  vessel  itself  be  shivered?  Why  was  it 
not  sown  at  first,  and  at  once,  upon  the  open  soil  of 
the  world?  Because  the  evidence,  and  much  of  the 
power  of  our  revelation,  is  in  this,  —  that  it  is  a  continu- 
ation, each  part  lending  force  to  each  through  ages, 
and  each  stage  preparing  the  heart  for  the  next  stage, 
advantages  which  a  disconnected,  an  unprogressive 
revelation  could  never  have.  The  principle  on  which 
God  acted  was  growth,  advance.  Besides,  great  as 
were  the  obstacles  to  the  full  reception  and  spread  of 
Christianity  through  Jewish  hearts,  yet  in  spite  of  that 
there  was  in  the  Jew  the  soil  best  fitted  for  it.  Not 
only  was  his  nature  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  profound 
reception  of  religious  ideas,  but  the  previous  stages  of 
Hebrew  education,  while  these  had  narrowed  them,  had 
yet  made,  at  least  some  of  them,  ready,  as  no  other 
souls  were  ever  ready,  for  the  reception,   full  appre- 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  239 

henslon,  and  propagation  of  this  truth.  Christianity 
needed  Jewish  souls  as  its  apostles  and  teachers,  and 
could  nowhere  else  have  found  them.  The  mediation 
of  this  profound  Jewish  heart  between  Christ  and  the 
Gentiles,  the  manner  in  which  we  see  it  first  used  and 
then  cast  aside  when  it  interfered  with  expansion,  is  a 
wonderful  instance  of  Providence  in  history. 

I  say,  wdien  it  interfered  it  was  cast  aside.  And  mark 
now,  just  at  this  point,  before  Judaism  was  divinely  ex- 
cluded, how  imminent  was  the  danger  that,  if  the  new 
religion  were  longer  committed  to  the  Jews  and  their 
prejudices,  they  would  reduce  and  subordinate  it,  so 
as  to  make  it  but  an  enlightened  Judaism.  This  was 
the  immense  risk;  and  any  one  who  reads  can  see  that 
Christianity  was  just  on  the  edge  of  a  great  gulf,  and 
if  it  had  fallen  into  this  there  would  have  been,  so  far 
as  we  can  see,  thousands  of  years  of  delay  and  disaster 
to  the  race.  Though  this  was  avoided  and  Christianity 
saved,  yet  it  is  interesting  to  see  how  slowly  and  by 
what  means  it  was  done,  —  how  Jewish  Christians  be- 
came at  last  Christians  purely  and  only.  The  high 
mind  of  Stephen,  the  first  martyr,  gave  the  world,  as  it 
were,  the  first  hint;  then  at  his  light  the  torch  of  Paul 
was  kindled,  or  rather  this  wonderful  creature  Paul, 
who  would  himself  have  reached  forward  into  all 
truth,  caught,  it  is  likely,  the  prompting  of  his  first 
change  of  thought  from  Stephen ;  and  so  when  Peter, 
the  great  head  of  the  Jewish  Christians,  was  still  back 
in  the  twilight,  Paul  stood  in  the  open  day. 


240  WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

Just  at  this  moment  was  the  danger,  when  the  en- 
lightened Paul  led  forward  the  advanced  wing  of  the 
church,  and  when  Peter,  still  a  Jew,  headed  the  narrow 
Hebrew  Christians,  who  hung  far  back, — just  here  was 
the  danger  that  the  Christian  Church  would  be  rent  at 
its  birth,  that  two  ever-separating  divisions  would  be 
made,  Peter's  ever  sinking  back  more  and  more  into 
the  old,  and  Paul's  ever  moving,  perhaps  too  rapidly 
and  too  far,  into  the  new. 

Here,  then,  was  a  moment  worthy  of  a  divine  interpo- 
sition. Without  this,  it  seems  impossible  that  the  church 
of  the  circumcision  could  have  been  lifted  out  of  that 
deep  Jewish  rut;   and  hence  the  events  here  recorded. 

In  this  tenth  chapter  of  Acts  is  a  knot  of  miracles, 
beautifully  blended,  and  pointing  to  one  purpose.  Cor- 
nelius at  Cesarea,  the  representative  of  the  Gentile 
world,  and  Peter  at  Joppa  are  both  led  as  children  by  an 
invisible  hand,  and  brought  into  communion  and  final 
brotherhood:  the  excellent  Cornelius  standing  for  all 
the  world  outside,  —  a  world  prepared  and  waiting  and 
leaning  forward  for  the  light,  —  and  Peter,  the  great  re- 
pository of  the  light  of  truth  which  was  as  yet,  we  may 
almost  say,  burning  in  a  dark  lantern,  induced  now  by 
a  divine  cogency  to  open  the  lantern  and  give  the  light. 

You  know  the  little  history.  Peter's  heart  was  opened 
first  by  miracle,  second  by  moral  evidence. 

As  to  this  narrative,  even  if  we  in  this  age,  so  critical 
of  miracles,  are  to  judge  of  miraculous  acts  by  the  im- 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  241 

portance  of  the  purpose,  and  by  the  tone  and  dignity 
of  the  acts  themselves,  we  ought  to  be  satisfied  with 
these.  The  account  is  very  beautiful,  and  without  one 
disfiguring  detail.  The  significant  and  poetic  beauty 
of  the  great  vessel,  like  a  globe,  as  if  representing  the 
earth,  filled  with  various  creatures  all  made  clean  in 
the  new  order  of  things,  and  so  the  implied  rebuke  to 
Peter  the  regenerated  Jew  for  keeping  up  the  obsolete 
and  now  hateful  distinction  between  the  clean  and  the 
unclean  animal,  and  much  more  between  the  peculiar 
race  of  men  and  all  men,  —  this  grand  vessel,  coming 
down  from  heaven  to  show  the  common  birth  of  all, 
and  taken  back  to  the  bosom  of  heaven  as  if  all  were 
there  held  dear,  and  this  done  three  times,  with  risine 
emphasis,  for  the  hungry  Peter  was  eager  to  eat,  but 
refused  to  do  so,  saying,  with  half-disgust  perhaps,  or 
with  self-complacency,  "  Not  so,  Lord,  for  I  have  never 
eaten  anything  that  is  common  or  unclean ; "  the  ma- 
jestic voice  replying,  ^*  What  God  hath  cleansed,  that 
call  not  thou  common,"  —  the  scene  vanishing  the  first 
time,  but,  to  make  sure  of  the  effect,  heaven  opening 
yet  twice  more,  and  the  voice  repeating  its  mandate,  — 
nothing  could  be  more  finely  conceived.  On  the  other 
hand,  at  Ccsarea,  a  resplendent  figure  at  the  ninth  hour 
stood  ''  evidently "  before  Cornelius,  and  said,  ''  Thy 
prayers  and  thine  alms  are  come  up  for  a  memorial 
before  God." 

Observe,  God,  who  at  Joppa  was  declaring  to  Peter 
the  cleanness  of  every  good  man,  here  at  Cesarea  was 

16 


242  WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

acting  out  the  principle  towards  Cornelius,  and  so 
making  the  one  transaction  at  Cesarea  to  vindicate  the 
other  at  Joppa. 

Take  notice,  in  the  next  place,  of  this  important  fact ; 
namely,  that  in  convincing  and  persuading  Peter  the 
moral  evidence,  as  to  the  heart  of  the  good  Cornelius, 
is  added  to  the  supernatural  evidence.  The  vision 
opened  Peter's  mind,  to  be  sure,  and  when  the  messen- 
ger came  he  went  to  Cornelius ;  but  it  was  not  until  he 
saw  the  good  man  and  his  household  gathered  reveren- 
tially before  him,  and  heard  the  humble  and  devout 
words,  ''  Now  therefore  are  we  all  here  present  before 
God,  to  hear  all  things  that  are  commanded  thee  of 
God,"  —  then  at  last  came  the  full  sense  that  the  Gen- 
tile heart  was  not  common,  that  this  man  was  better 
than  a  child  of  Abraham,  being  a  son  of  God ;  and  so, 
at  once  and  honestly,  ''  Peter  opened  his  mouth,  and 
said.  Of  a  truth  I  perceive  that  God  is  no  respecter  of 
persons ;  but  in  every  nation  he  that  feareth  him,  and 
worketh  righteousness,  is  accepted  with  him."  At  one 
bound  Peter  overleaps  the  limits  of  the  Jew,  and  goes 
far  beyond  many  even  now. 

Some  writers  speak  of  Peter  as  naturally  bigoted. 
He  was  a  sincere  and  genuine  Jew,  —  not  of  the  very 
largest  thought,  as  Paul,  and  not  to  be  judged  by  so 
high  a  standard ;  but  still  his  was  an  open,  teachable, 
and  intrepid  spirit.  If  his  age  is  remembered  —  a  fact 
of  the  very  greatest  importance  in  judging  of  such  a 
matter  —  his  forwardness  to  accept  views  radically  new 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  243 

will  surprise  any  one  who  knows  mankind,  will  sur- 
prise as  much  as  that  vast  conversion  of  Saul  to  Paul. 
He  was  firm  in  his  beliefs,  certainly;  and  it  is  a  re- 
markable fact  that  God  chose  such  instructors  as 
these  two  men,  both  so  intense  in  their  convictions 
as  to  be  wrenched  out  of  them  only  by  miracles.  It 
shows  us  how  God  values  earnestness,  and  how  well  he 
saw  that  these  two  Jews,  who  lived  in  a  burning  heat 
of  Judaism,  would,  when  once  converted,  pour  other 
flames,  purer,  but  not  less  fervid,  into  the  world,  — 
would  burn,  in  fact,  as  that  fire  which  the  Lord  said  he 
was  about  to  ''  send  on  the  earth."  Yes ;  once  set  on 
fire  by  the  real  truth,  they  burned  as  vividly  along  the 
rim  of  the  widest  circle  as  they  had  done  at  the  narrow 
Jewish  centre. 

Call  not  then  such  a  soul  as  Peter's  the  soul  of  a 
bigot,  and  iron-bound.  Was  he  not  open,  who,  of  all 
the  earth,  first  felt  the  deep  appreciation  of  Jesus,  — 
who  first  stood  forth  and  said,  "Thou  art  the  Christ"? 
Yes;  his  heart  was  open,  and  his  soul  intrepid.  But 
his  fault,  his  weakness,  as  is  always  the  case,  lay  near 
his  virtue.  He  was  all  in  the  present  feeling ;  and  so, 
under  any  new  impression,  he  was  ever  liable  to  ex- 
treme reactions.  The  man  who  yesterday  led  the  cir- 
cumcision, to-day  said,  ''  In  every  nation  he  that  feareth 
him,  and  worketh  righteousness,  is  accepted  with  him." 
But  to-morrow  this  very  man  —  as  we  read  in  the  Epis- 
tle to  the  Galatians — was  openly  rebuked  by  Paul  for 
yielding  once  more  to  his  sympathies  for  the  Jews,  and 


244  WIDER    VIEWS   OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

possibly  to  his  old  Jewish  prejudices,  and  refusing  to 
eat  with  the  Gentile  brethren.  ''  I  withstood  him  to  his 
face,"  says  Paul,  ''  for  he  was  to  be  blamed." 

The  man  who  first  recognized  the  Lord,  then  openly 
and  meanly  denied  him,  ''I  know  not  the  man,"  —  the 
man  who  saw  here  so  clearly  the  great  vessel  descend- 
ing unto  him,  who  felt  that  God  had  stretched  out  the 
lines  of  his  household  as  wide  as  the  encircling  skies, 
yet  shrinks  from  opposing  the  prejudices  of  his  Jewish 
brethren;  and  though  he  was  naturally  the  bravest 
man  in  the  New  Testament  record,  yet  the  only  acts 
of  individual  cowardice  among  the  disciples  there  set 
down  are  the  acts  of  the  brave  Peter. 

Here,  in  these  chapters,  is  the  grand  encouragement 
to  an  unprejudiced  and  tolerant  spirit,  —  the  very  spirit 
of  Christ,  which  is  union  and  not  disunion,  brother- 
hood not  enmity,  and  which  puts  down  all  small  causes 
of  separation  between  man  and  man.  The  rule  is  for 
us  also,  —  '*  what  God  hath  cleansed,  that  call  not 
thou  common."  He  hath  cleansed  whatever  he  hath 
created ;  whatever  he  has  sanctioned  in  the  natural 
world  as  good  enough  to  be  his  creature,  whatever  in 
society  and  usage  he  has  established  and  sanctioned 
(sin  and  crime  always  apart),  that  is  good  enough  to 
be  respected  by  us.  This  simple  rule  sweeps  away 
at  once  the  differences  of  race,  of  language,  of  cus- 
toms, of  occupations,  of  the  orders  and  classes  in 
social  life,  —  all  those  myriad  walls  which  shut  out 
the  sympathies  of  one  class,  nay,  one  individual,  from 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  245 

another.       A     common     fatherhood     makes     common 
children. 

I  mean  not  to  preach  poHtical  equality  (that  depends 
on  circumstances),  or  social  equality,  or  any  individual 
equality;  for  Nature  puts  her  ban  on  all  such  folly. 
Does  she  make  any  two  things  equal?  Is  not  her 
whole  kingdom  subordination?  Is  not  that  the  spirit 
of  the  gospel?  Yet  it  is  also  perfect  brotherhood  of 
heart,  animating  and  dignifying  all,  —  the  lofty  willingly 
coming  down  from  their  seat  to  raise  the  beggar  from 
the  dust,  —  ''  the  brother  of  low  degree  "  rejoicing  in 
the  elevation  of  him  that  is  above  him.  *'  Orders  and 
degrees  jar  not  with  liberty,  but  well  consist,"  said  the 
great  Puritan,  John  Milton.  So,  resisting  all  mere  level- 
ling, yet,  on  the  other  hand,  to  use  personal  or  social 
or  political  advantages  selfishly,  to  stand  apart  in  our 
prejudices,  to  oppress  the  deserving,  to  harden  our 
hearts  against  any  of  the  children  of  God,  —  what  is 
all  this  but  to  erect  again  all  those  devil-built  walls  of 
partition  which  the  Lord  has  thrown  down  *'  with  the 
breath  of  his  mouth"? 

Are  you  Christians?  What  Is  the  meaning  of  that? 
**  Into  what  were  ye  baptized  ?  "  Into  a  common  sonship 
to  God,  into  a  common  redemption  by  Christ,  Into  a 
common  heart,  into  fraternity  with  man,  calling  nothing 
but  sin  and  meanness,  In  high  or  low,  "  common  or  un- 
clean." For  remember  there  Is  one  Redeemer  and  Elder 
Brother  who  hath  laid  his  hand  upon  us  all,  and  I  cannot 
hope  for  his  forgiveness  if  I  forgive  not  my  brother. 


246  WIDER    VIEWS   OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

Then,  as  to  my  religious  convictions.  Wherever  in 
doctrine  an  imperious  dogma  is,  or  a  putting  of  intellec- 
tual conclusions  before  charity  and  brotherhood,  there 
is  the  spirit  of  the  Jew.  Yes,  though  I  justly  hold  my 
religious  convictions  to  be  of  costly  value,  and  though 
I  must  strive  for  the  truth  at  any  sacrifice,  yet  if  my 
brother,  whom  I  see  of  as  good  life  as  myself,  or  better, 
whom  I  see  to  be  as  earnest  for  truth  as  I  am,  if  he  dif- 
fers with  me  shall  I  rule  him  to  be  but  "  an  heathen  man 
and  a  publican"?  Shall  I  call  him  "unclean"  whom 
God  hath  cleansed?  What  is  the  central  test  of  the 
Church,  given  by  God ;  what  points  it  out  to  the 
world?  "  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my 
disciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another."  Human 
nature  takes  any  excuse  to  make  a  separation,  and 
prides  itself  upon  it :  **  I  have  never  eaten  anything  that 
is  common  or  unclean."  After  the  Christian  world  has 
been  baptized  into  so  divine  a  unity,  into  the  belief  of 
one  God  and  Father  of  all,  and  one  Lord  who  is  over 
all,  and  who  was  crucified  for  all,  and  one  Spirit,  and 
one  general  temper,  is  it  not  time  we  should  subordi- 
nate such  differences  as  are  not  essential  to  Christian 
life  to  that  beautiful  spirit,  spoken  of  by  Paul,  which 
*'  hopes  all  and  believes  all  "?  And  while  we  stand  firm 
for  all  truth,  let  us  remember  that  in  the  great  vessel 
of  the  world  variety  and  multiplicity  are  allowed ;  *'  all 
manner  of  four-footed  beasts  of  the  earth,  and  wild 
beasts,  and  creeping  things,  and  fowls  of  the  air." 

We  still  need  the  lesson.     The  old  times,  to  be  sure, 


WIDER    VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY,  247 

are  past,  when  the  very  tolhng  of  the  church  bells 
seemed  to  be  a  tolling  for  battle.  But  even  now,  side 
by  side  with  a  false  tolerance,  —  which  only  seems  lib- 
eral because  it  is  indifferent,  —  are  also  the  remains, 
with  some  persons  certainly,  of  a  blind,  unchristian 
prejudice  against  all  not  of  their  own  immediate  house- 
hold. These  overlook  the  injury  done  to  the  com- 
mon faith  for  the  sake  of  some  special  views,  and  really 
seem  to  lose  the  sense  of  a  common  Master  and  a 
common  salvation  and  a  common  future  in  any  petty 
difference. 

But  do  not  misunderstand ;  do  not  think  I  am  preach- 
ing church  equality.  I  am  not  a  believer  in  equality, 
but  in  distinctions  and  superiorities  of  all  sorts.  Yet 
when  I  am  found  expelling  what  Christ  accepts,  refus- 
ing one  of  the  least  of  these  his  brethren,  magnifying 
distinctions,  and  belittling  the  things  which  identify, 
then  I  may  be  sure  of  one  thing,  —  that  that  is  the 
precise  reverse  of  Christ  and  his  temper,  and  that  if  I 
have  not  his  temper  I  am  none  of  his.  ''  He  that  is  not 
against  us  is  for  us,"  was  his  divine  declaration ;  and  his 
was  the  voice  which  majestically  announced  to  his  ser- 
vant Peter,  *^What  God  hath  cleansed,  that  call  not  thou 
common." 


XXIV. 

THE  DEPTHS  OF  SATAN. 

And  no  marvel ;  for  Satan  hhnself  is  transformed  into  an  angel 
of  light.  —  2  Cor.  xi.  14. 

A  T  Corinth  there  were,  it  seems,  as  we  should  ex- 
-^^-  pect,  "  deceitful  workers,"  who  gave  out  that  they 
were  the  apostles  of  Christ;  and  they  not  only  pre- 
tended to  the  look  and  air  of  apostles,  but  such  was 
their  skill  in  hypocrisy,  the  depth  of  their  deceitful 
working,  that  they  actually  seemed  better  apostles  than 
Paul  himself.  But  this  was  no  marvel,  says  Paul,  for 
Satan  himself,  the  head  malignant  of  the  creation,  the 
worst  of  the  set,  appeared  to  be  an  angel  of  light ;  for 
the  depth  of  his  mysterious  deceit  was  such  that  he  w^as 
actually  transformed  to  suit  his  purposes. 

"  I  marvel  not,  then,"  said  the  deep  apostle,  "  when  I 
see  evil  looking  as  good,  because  I  know  that  the  centre 
of  evil  itself,  the  father  of  it,  the  blot  in  Nature,  • —  even 
he  may  cover  himself  with  grace  and  name  himself  the 
Son  of  the  Morning,  and  come  forward  with  a  shining 
face  among  the  sons  of  God." 

I  have  nothing  to  say  as  to  the  personality  of  this 
fountain  of  evil.  It  is  sufficient  to  know  that  there  is  a 
dark  power  pervading  Nature  and  spirits ;   and,  knowing 


THE  DEPTHS  OF  SATAN. 


249 


that,  let  us  fix  our  eyes  upon  this  fact  about  it,  —  its  inde- 
scribable deceptiveness.  It  were  better  to  say,  this  fact 
which  is  at  its  heart,  and  which  is  its  life;  for  evil  is 
deception,  and  has  no  existence  apart  from  deception. 
It  gets  all  its  power  by  looking  another  thing  than  it  is. 

We  know  that  the  apostle  speaks  of  evil  as  '*  sitting  in 
the  temple  of  God,  showing  himself  that  he  is  God,"  or, 
as  Milton  expresses  it,  "  with  godlike  imitated  state." 
It  is  a  grand  and  universal  mimicry  of  God  or  goodness, 
from  the  lowest  of  the  forms  of  good  up  to  the  highest. 
If  we  were  to  go  through  every  species  of  evil  that  has 
ever  seduced  man  or  angel,  the  moment  of  its  power 
would  be  found  to  be  when  it  wore  a  fair  mask  upon  its 
face ;  and  the  more  heavenly  the  look  the  mask  has,  the 
subtler  and  more  resistless  is  its  charm.  If  we  get  at  the 
very  core  of  things  evil,  it  is  always  an  ugly  and  dis- 
gusting core ;  but  around  it  are  often  the  finest  shows 
and  the  richest  aroma  of  the  creation ;  and  so  in  bor- 
rowed garments  it  sits  in  the  midst  of  the  temple  of 
God,  showing  itself  as  God.  All  false  religions,  indeed, 
in  us  Christians  or  in  heathendom,  are  but  some  heav- 
enly spirit  leavening  a  satanic  mass. 

Some  philosophical  minds  defend  this  blending  and 
hiding  of  evil  under  good,  because  they  say  —  which  is 
no  doubt  true  —  that  it  relieves  the  brutality  of  the  evil 
and  saves  the  conscience.  But  I  answer:  first,  it  makes 
the  introduction  of  evil  easy;  secondly,  it  gradually  lets 
down  the  mind  to  any  depth.  There  is  a  celebrated 
saying  of  Burke,  in  allusion  to  the  splendid  vice  of  the 


250  THE  DEPTHS  OF  SATAN. 

French  court,  that  "  vice  lost  half  its  evil  by  losing  all 
its  grossness ;  "  which  is  strongly  defended  by  the  acute 
mind  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  on  the  principle  that  all 
disguise  is  a  limitation  upon  vice.  These  excellent  and 
illustrious  persons  did  not  intend  a  pernicious  state- 
ment; but  a  maxim  of  this  sort  can  be  defended  only 
through  not  adverting  to  the  distinctions  just  noticed. 

Pure  iniquity  shocks ;  but  where  some  good  affection 
recommends  it,  then  it  becomes  an  angel  of  light,  and 
serves  as  a  beautiful  shell  to  cover  in  the  satanic  centre ; 
and  it  is  a  fearful  fact  that  the  deepest  sensibilities  often 
serve  to  make  the  heart  the  easier  victim  of  its  power. 
It  was  the  woman's  nature  that  fell  first,  as  the  Bible 
records.  Why?  Because  of  her  weakness.  But  wherein 
the  weakness?  In  the  very  source  of  her  strength, — 
the  more  vivid  sensibility,  —  not  only  the  sense  that  the 
fruit  was  "  pleasant  to  the  eyes,"  but  the  dazzle  of  the 
thought  that  it  would  elevate,  that  it  was  "  to  be  desired 
to  make  one  wise," — this  dazzle  it  was  that  made  her  first 
in  the  transgression.  And  so  it  ever  is  with  her.  And 
so  it  ever  is  with  strong  feelings  and  powerful  imagina- 
tions. I  mention  this  to  the  young,  to  all,  as  a  trumpet 
of  warning. 

Now,  of  this  deception  our  life  is  crowded  with  in- 
stances. The  holy  affection  of  parent  for  child  covers 
up  and  to  some  extent  justifies  to  the  parent  the  most 
arrant  selfishness  as  respects  him  and  his.  The  indis- 
pensable virtue  of  prudence,  the  necessity  for  the  hon- 
orable energy  which  foresees  and  provides,  conceals  at 


THE  DEPTHS  OF  SATAN.  25 1 

this  moment  from  whole  masses  of  men  their  distrust  in 
God,  their  reliance  on  the  most  unreliable  things,  their 
greedy  grasp  of  the  world.  So  the  heartless  conceit  and 
selfishness  of  ambition  chooses  for  itself  the  fairest 
names  and  forms  to  cover  it,  —  glory,  patriotism,  etc. 
Wherever  we  look,  war,  letters,  science,  high  place  in 
the  State,  —  all  gather  a  thousand  artificial  and  some  real 
grandeurs  to  cover  over  with  angelic  light  the  various 
Satans  which  lie  powerful  at  the  centre.  That  old  sor- 
cerer who  once  spread  out  to  the  purest  eye  of  Christ 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world  still  covers  with  his  cloth  of 
state  all  the  sordid  objects  of  life;  he  still  calls  selfish' 
grasping  honorable  aspiration,  and  the  harlotries  of 
vanity  shine  with  the  name  and  as  if  with  the  lights  of 
true  glory. 

Strip  off  these  fair  names  and  coverings,  and  we  have 
below — what?  Look  into  the  heart  of  Napoleon,  look 
through  into  the  very  heart  of  that  most  imperial  of  all 
forms  which  ever  awed  the  world,  and  what  do  you  see 
there?  A  man  says  he  is  seeking  public  good,  wealth, 
power,  for  honorable  ends,  or  maybe  self-culture,  or  a 
noble  truth  and  beauty,  and  so  he  covers  himself  with 
these  shining  names;  but  if  you  look  under  the  drapery 
you  will  find  a  contemptible  litde  idol,  as  deformed 
often  as  a  Hindu  god.  Nay,  every  best  and  purest 
affection,  the  love  of  man  to  woman,  faithfulness  to 
duty,  to  religious  truth,  we  so  abuse  as  to  allow  under 
their  holy  shelter  passions,  defects,  which  would  blush 
in  the  open  daylight. 


252  THE   DEPTHS   OF  SATAN. 

I  do  not  say  we  deliberately  put  ourselves  under  this 
deception.  For  the  most  part  this  is  not  so.  We  are 
drawn  away  scarcely  conscious  of  the  delightful  lie. 
But  the  man  alive  to  duty  always  detects  or  may  de- 
tect the  cheat.  He  may;  but  the  song  in  his  ears  is 
a  fair  song,  and  the  eyes  are  half  willing  to  close,  and 
the  enchanted  world  is  welcomed,  for  it  seems  fairer 
than  the  common  daylight.  It  is  so  delightful  to  look 
at  inferior  things  in  this  superior  way,  to  cover  them 
with  fair  names,  to  call,  for  example,  our  weak,  self- 
indulgent  compassion  to  the  poor  charity,  or  to  call  our 
ostentation  charity,  or  to  call  our  gross  calculations  for 
self  charity,  —  for  "  the  coward  to  say  he  is  a  wary  man, 
or  for  the  miser  to  say  he  is  frugal."  This  angel  of 
light  so  beautifully  adorns  it  all  that  we  close  our  eyes 
on  the  devilish  legerdemain. 

I  am  a  proud  man,  or  I  am  a  great  self-seeker,  or  of 
a  bitter  temper,  with  many  personal  grudges.  Now,  I 
may  wreak  all  these  tempers,  not  only  without  danger, 
but  to  great  advantage,  under  the  cover  of  interest  to 
my  party  or  my  set.  If  I  am  called  a  Christian,  how 
stirring  my  public  benevolences,  so  long  as  they  are 
public !  how  keen  am  I  for  the  truth !  —  that  is,  per- 
haps, for  certain  prejudices  or  superstitions  which  I 
have  built  up  between  me  and  my  brother  and  call 
truth,  though  it  is  such  truth  as  will  not  keep  the 
unity  of  the  Spirit,  and  breaks  the  golden  bond  of 
peace.  Many  a  church  partisan  feels  covered  all  over 
with  the   armor  of  a  champion  of  the  light;    and  yet 


THE  DEPTHS  OF  SATAN.  2 S3 

what  is  he  but  a  poor  deluded   creature,  working  the 
works  of  Satan? 

So  through  the  whole.  There  is  not  one  evil  which 
wears  not  a  face  as  of  a  twin  brother  to  some  good. 
When  we  are  making  excuses  and  explanations  to  our- 
selves for  a  course  we  are  bent  on  taking,  then  the  good 
gifts  of  our  mind  are  perverted  to  smooth  the  way  to 
sin,  and  we  give  occasion  to  that  fine  satiric  sentence, 
"  So  convenient  a  thing  is  it  to  be  a  reasonable  creature, 
for  it  enables  one  to  find  or  make  a  reason  for  every- 
thing one  has  a  mind  to." 

The  only  sort  of  science,  perfection  in  which  is  abso- 
lutely required,  is  the  science  of  knowing  "  the  depths 
of  Satan."  Until  we  learn  more  of  these  depths,  let  us 
take  this  one  rule :  When  there  is  any  tinge  or  doubt 
of  evil,  fear  it  most  where  it  comes  most  warm  and  nat- 
ural and  lovely.  Or  sometimes  when  it  comes  more 
sacred  still, — 

"  Breathing  like  sanctified  and  pious  bonds, 
The  better  to  beguile." 

In  all  these  cases,  fear  it.  "  Abhor  that  which  is  evil ;" 
though  it  be  as  lofty  in  stature  as  a  god,  though  its  face 
be  living  with  charms  as  if  fresh  out  of  heaven,  though 
it  be  covered  with  imperial  honors,  "the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  and  the  glory  of  them,"  —  abhor  it ! 

Discriminate;  prove  all  things;  try  them  by  the 
model  of  Christ,  by  his  divine  rules,  or  better  still  by 
his  divine  temper.  I  know  nothing  else  in  books,  noth- 
ing  in   men's  heads   or  hearts  that  can  teach   us   how 


254  THE  DEPTHS   OF  SATAN. 

surely  to  detect  Satan.  Christ  is  the  one  who  himself 
was  utterly  undeceived,  and  who  looked  at  all  things  as 
they  are.  Study  him,  catch  his  views,  get  that  spirit  of 
most  disinterested,  humble  love  for  God  and  the  inter- 
ests of  man,  and  every  form  of  the  base  and  selfish  will 
start  up  from  its  myriad  disguises,  discovered  to  its  last 
fibre,  naked  and  hideous. 


XXV. 

THE    OFFICE    OF    JUDGMENT. 

In  the  image  of  God  created  he  him.  —  Gen.  i.  27. 

TN  many  aspects  was  man  intended  to  be  in  the  image 
-^  of  God ;  and  they  are  all  interesting  and  high,  and 
are  the  claims  of  our  nature  to  a  natural  nobility,  until 
we  become  in  part  self-degraded  and  self-deposed. 
Man  was  intended  as  the  visible  representative  of  God 
as  ''  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth."  We  are  all,  by  the 
very  constitution  of  our  spirits,  intended  to  be  set  in 
the  earth  for  judgment. 

This  fact  has  been  felt  by  all  men  throughout  their 
history;  but  it  is  most  singular  to  see  how  the  feeling 
has  shown  itself.  It  has  not  come  clearly  out  in  the 
consciousness  of  men  as  a  fact  true  of  themselves,  true 
of  all  men  (as  it  is),  but  true  of  kings  or  patriarchs  or 
divine  men  only.  At  the  time  of  the  Hebrew  patriarchs 
it  was  felt  that  theirs  was  a  peculiar  power,  of  adjudging 
a  blessing  or  curse,  —  a  judicial  power,  which  sent  good 
or  evil  down  into  the  life.  So  it  was  felt  as  to  prophets 
and  diviners  such  as  Balaam.  The  feeling  of  men  was 
that  such  a  power  of  judging  did  exist  on  earth,  but 
that  it  could  only  belong  to  the  leaders,  the  old  men, 
the  prophets,  the  men  nearer  God. 


256  THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 

So,  in  the  same  way  of  thinking,  throughout  common 
history  the  profane  mass  has  been  denied  all  the  emi- 
nent glories  of  humanity,  that  they  might  be  gathered 
as  aureolas  around  a  few  select  heads.  While  the 
simple  truth  is  that  the  title  of  all  men  to  judge  is  just 
according  to  the  degree  in  which  God  has  given  them 
a  just  heart  and  mind;  just  in  proportion  to  that, 
they  share  with  him  by  a  natural  title  in  his  office  of 
judgment,  —  Christ  the  supreme  judge,  after  him  those 
who  are  most  like  him.  But  men  have  ever  stripped 
themselves,  as  a  race,  of  the  finest  distinctions  of  their 
humanity;  and  the  reason  of  this  has  been,  that  the 
mass  of  human  kind  until  lately  were  in  the  uncon- 
scious humility  of  children  as  to  themselves,  but  as  to 
their  great  ones  they  could  believe  anything;  their 
sacred  ones  seemed  to  them  (in  their. reverential  imagi- 
nations) to  share  the  mysterious  lights  and  powers  of 
God. 

Of  course,  all  this  was  based  in  some  cases  on  a  real 
ground  of  truth;  namely,  that  some  chosen  men  are 
somewhat  more  in  the  image  of  God  than  others.  But 
the  same  feeling  operates  throughout  history,  even  where 
the  higher  men  are  really  not  higher  at  all.  The  world 
has  all  along  bowed  down  to  the  decrees  of  conventional 
orders  of  men,  artificial  classes.  Brahmins  and  priests 
for  example,  and  their  voices  only  have  stood  for  the 
judgments*  of  God. 

But  the  gospel  of  Christ  broke  boldly  for  the  first 
time  upon  this  delusion,  and  proclaimed  that  all  men 


THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT.  257 

of  the  Spirit,  that  is,  all  true  souls,  are  kings  and  priests 
unto  God ;  that  judgment,  the  power  to  "  open  and 
shut,"  receive  and  reject,  bless  and  curse,  belongs  to 
be  sure  eminently  to  chosen  men,  but  belongs  also  to 
every  faithful  man.  This  was  the  true  spirit  of  the 
gospel. 

The  Christian  Church,  however,  received  this  great 
truth  but  for  a  moment,  and  almost  Immediately  ran 
back  to  its  old  superstitions  about  leading  or  official 
men,  and  deposited  the  precious  duties  and  rights  of 
humanity  In  the  hands  of  an  order.  So  what  was  at 
first  In  the  Christian  Church  a  power  of  divine  judg- 
ment, given  to  all,  but  especially  and  In  an  eminent 
sense  to  apostles  and  leaders  (because  to  their  Illumi- 
nated hearts  It  specially  belonged),  this  power,  the 
*'  power  of  the  keys  "  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  to 
open  and  to  shut,  to  say  what  man  or  what  truth  should 
come  In  or  be  shut  out,  to  absolve  or  condemn,  —  this 
power  gradually  and  ever  since  has  been  grasped  and 
used  by  the  priesthood  of  that  very  ancient  and  power- 
ful church,  the  Church  of  Rome. 

But  let  me  do  that  priesthood  no  Injustice.  Its 
priestly  powers  were  not  so  much  grasped  by  them 
as  devolved  upon  them  by  the  condition  of  the  mass  In 
Europe  from  that  day  to  this.  The  world  of  Christians 
In  ignorant  humility,  losing  sight  of  their  own  claims 
and  duties  as  born  representatives  of  God  upon  earth, 
to  judge  and  guide  themselves  and  others,  have  willingly 
yielded  up  this  heavenly  prerogative,   anxious  to  get 

17 


258  THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 

rid  of  the  responsibility  of  themselves.  Yes,  and  not 
merely  the  ignorant,  but  intelligent  people,  from  among 
ourselves  (so  deeply  seated  is  this  weakness),  pass,  even 
to-day,  into  the  Church  of  Rome  for  this  very  purpose, 
to  discharge  themselves  of  all  judgment,  to  unman  them- 
selves; for  it  is  the  true  and  only  manhood  of  man  to 
continue  in  the  image  of  God,  of  which  this  great  office 
of  judgment  is  one  aspect.  The  high  thing  is  always 
the  hard  thing;  and  this  high  office  of  judgment  which 
requires  at  every  step  that  the  whole  conscience  and 
will  be  awake,  has  been  gladly  given  away  and  got 
rid  of. 

But  we  Protestants  at  least  do  better,  —  a  little,  but 
not  much  better.  Men  have  never  been  high  enough 
yet  to  be  truly  men.  Are  not  our  judgments  of  truth, 
for  example,  made  for  us  by  others?  Who  has  estab- 
lished theology  and  bound  it  upon  Protestantism,  but 
a  few  scholastic  heads  ?  Yet  this  is  pardonable.  It  is 
not  pardonable,  however,  that  the  Christian  heart  should 
not  learn  to  judge  from  its  own  self  at  least  of  the  great 
aspects  of  truth,  and  much  more  to  judge  Christian 
practice  and  morals. 

But  one  thing  more,  and  worst  of  all,  as  to  our  Pro- 
testant boast  of  private  judgment.  Protestantism,  in 
claiming  the  right  of  judgment  for  the  individual,  has 
made  one  egregious  mistake.  It  has  at  least  permitted, 
if  it  has  not  encouraged,  a  mistake  as  to  where  in  human 
nature  the  seat  of  judgment  is.  Not  in  the  cold  head, 
judging  the  letter  of  the  Bible,  —  not  there  is  the  seat 


THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 


-0' 


of  judgment.  In  the  cultivated  spiritual  soul,  in  the 
pure  heart,  brought  under  the  influence  of  Bible  truth, 
there  is  the  light  which  judges  of  all  spiritual  light, 
the  inipcrium  in  imperiOy  —  the  top  of  judgment.  Now, 
the  insufficient  emphasis  of  this  fact  has  gradually 
turned  much  of  Protestant  thinking  into  a  mere  intel- 
lectual criticism ;  and  mere  intellect,  judging  of  things 
spiritual,  is  scepticism !  So  we  see  on  the  one  hand 
that  the  Church  of  Rome  has  usurped,  in  the  interests 
of  a  class,  the  judgment  God  gave  to  all  men ;  and  we 
see  on  the  other  hand  that  Protestantism,  while  seeming 
to  reassert  the  rights  of  individual  judgment,  has  done 
so  in  part  imperfectly  and  in  part  mistakenly. 

But  next,  we  ought  to  be  not  only  judges  in  this 
general  sense,  but  more  specifically  judges  of  the  char- 
acter of  one  another  in  the  ordinary  sense.  We  are  to 
be  judges  of  one  another,  carefully,  to  be  sure,  because 
of  our  ignorance,  benignly  because  of  our  brotherhood, 
but  still  to  judge  one  another  and  to  "  spread  plenty 
of  justice  and  equity  upon  the  earth."  I  know  that 
the  best  and  most  judicial  men  (aware  of  their  own 
infirmities,  aware  how  much  the  pure  light  of  judg- 
ment which  comes  down  from  God  into  the  spirit  is 
dimmed)  feel  instinctively  that  they  would  gladly  put 
away  all  judgment  as  to  their  fellows.  As  Saint  Paul 
said,  "  I  judge  nothing  before  the  time,  until  the  Lord 
[the  king  of  judges]  come."  He  meant  that  his  ten- 
dency was,  in  cases  of  doubt,  not  to  be  arbitrary  and 
foolishly  certain,  but   gladly,  and   wherever  he    could, 


260  THE   OFFICE    OF  JUDGMENT. 

to  commit  all  judgment  to  Christ;  but  such  cases  apart, 
Saint  Paul  himself  declares  that  man  is  gifted  with  the 
highest  powers  of  judgment.  ''  Know  ye  not  that  ye 
shall  judge  angels?"  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  himself 
exercised  continually  the  office  of  a  high  judge,  and  by 
no  title  but  because  of  the  judicial  spirit  that  was  in 
him.  And  so  of  all  men  who  share  in  the  same  spirit; 
judgment  is  asked  of  them,  benign  but  real,  the  weight 
of  their  approval  or  disapproval.  This  is  one  of  the 
demands  upon  us  as  human,  as  made  in  the  image  of 
God ;  we  cannot  put  it  off;  *'  we  are  appointed  there- 
unto," —  appointed  to  acquit  or  condemn  as  one  of  the 
delegated  judges  of  the  earth. 

This  is  true.  Yet  as  a  matter  of  fact  what  do  we 
find?  We  find  a  large  body  of  men  seize  judgment 
gladly,  but  only  that  they  may  use  it  selfishly  or  ma- 
lignantly, rushing  to  decisions  concerning  their  fellow- 
creatures  in  a  bold,  selfish,  and  ignorant  spirit,  and 
under  the  guise  of  judges  taking  the  place  of  execu- 
tioners. The  lips  of  men  and  women  made  sweet  and 
sacred  to  truth  and  justice  are  poisoned  and  black 
with  wrong.  This  is  one  side.  On  the  other,  there 
is  a  class  of  good  but  falsely  conscientious  people 
who  decline  the  office  of  judging  altogether.  Did  not 
the  Lord  say,  "  Judge  not,  and  ye  shall  not  be  judged  "? 
Yes,  to  be  sure  those  divine  lips  spake  that;  but  of 
course  he  meant  unjust  judges  and  overweening  con- 
demnations. It  would  be  better,  I  think,  if  the  words 
stood,  not  "judge  not,"  but  **  censure  not,  and  ye  shall 


THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT.  26 1 

not  be  censured."  Whose  voice  sounds  with  a  louder 
and  nobler  ring  oi  judgment  than  his?  Not  any.  I 
know  that  he  censures,  but  I  know  that  his  kindness, 
while  it  suffused  and  limited  his  justice,  never  destroyed 
it;   if  it  had,  his  mercy  would  be  a  curse. 

But  you  have  no  right  to  be  judging  others,  you  say. 
Yes,  but  you  have ;  and  more  than  a  right,  you  have  a 
duty.  The  only  question  is,  how  you  shall  perform  it. 
The  world  wants  justice.  The  earth  mourns  and  lan- 
guishes for  the  want  of  it.  Human  affairs  need  it,  in- 
dividual men  need  it,  and  the  hearts  of  some  men  are 
half  consumed  in  the  thirst  for  justice.  *'  I  want  but 
justice,"  they  say.  Yes,  and  the  way  the  world  is  going 
on,  you  will  want  it.  Many  people  will  give  you  scandal 
and  censure  but  omit  the  justice,  while  some  good  men 
stand  by  and  will  not  interfere.  ''  The  world  wants  jus- 
tice," I  repeat;  and  the  only  question  is  how,  in  what 
spirit,  right-hearted  men  shall  speak  it  and  act  it. 

Now,  to  know  this  rightly,  we  must  know  that  God's 
judges  must  have  righteous  ends  in  view,  and  judge 
without  spleen  or  selfishness.  That  is  first.  We  must 
imitate  the  dignity  of  the  public  justice  as  we  see  it 
practised  in  our  solemn  tribunals.  We  must  not  be 
hasty,  we  must  demand  the  evidence,  grounds  more 
pertinent  than  gossip,  or  else  entirely  refuse  judgment ; 
and  in  all  points  we  must  let  our  justice  lean  towards 
equity,  and  our  equity  lean  towards  mercy. 

Besides,  two  thmgs  are  demanded  of  every  judge,  — 
personal  purity  and  fearlessness.     Our  judgment  must 


262  THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 

be  as  pure  as  an  act  of  religion,  and  as  fearless,  with 
no  private  meanness  or  unbrotherhood  at  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts.  Fearlessness  in  the  pure  judge  is  especially 
to  be  admired ;  especially,  because  ordinary  people  are 
so  cowed  by  power  and  influence,  so  cowed  by  the 
slanderer,  that  justice  is  kept  back  through  fear.  Most 
strange  to  say  that  the  unjust  men  of  the  world  frighten 
men  so  much  by  their  calumnies  that  justice  is  often 
silent,  and  even  sometimes  pays  blackmail  to  its  enemy. 
I  have  known,  perhaps  you  have  known,  whole  commu- 
nities where  the  worst  of  slanderers  have  been  treated, 
if  not  with  respect  yet  with  particular  care;  just  as  in 
some  countries  the  serpent,  and  in  Japan  the  fox,  be- 
cause supposed  to  be  animals  inhabited  by  demons, 
are  on  that  account  consecrated  and  worshipped,  and 
enjoy  the  best  of  the  land,  —  really  devil-worship.  The 
just  and  fearless  judge,  who  puts  under  his  feet  the 
fear  of  the  slandering  newspaper  or  slandering  man  or 
woman,  deserves  a  monument. 

Finally,  we  are  appointed  to  be  judges  of  ourselves; 
and  the  great  rule  of  this  judgment  is  to  be  merciful  to 
others  but  severe  to  ourselves ;  for  selfish  as  we  are,  it 
is  always  safe  to  deduct  largely  from  our  indulgence 
towards  ourselves  and  to  add  largely  to  our  indulgence 
towards  others.  There  is  an  instance  of  this  sort  of 
modesty  and  equity  of  heart  in  the  private  journals 
of  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  to  which  I  am  glad  to  recur. 
He  says,  speaking  of  a  certain  person :  "  This  gentle- 
man has,  I  think,  a  distaste  for  me,  which  I  believe  to 


THE    OFFICE    OF  JUDGMENT.  263 

be  natural  to  all  his  family.  I  think  the  worse  of  no- 
body for  such  a  feeling.  Indeed,  I  often  feel  a  distaste 
for  myself.  I  am  sure  I  should  not  esteem  my  own 
character  in  another  person.  It  is  more  likely  I  should 
have  disrespectable  or  disagreeable  qualities  than  that 
such  a  person  should  have  an  unreasonable  antipathy 
for  me."  Now,  here  is  the  veritable  Christian  spirit  in 
the  judgment  of  self.  The  scales  of  pure  justice  this 
man  carried  into  the  public  courts  of  his  country,  but 
he  carried  other  scales  into  the  judgments  of  his  own 
heart,  —  scales  swayed  and  tipped  by  modesty,  by  gen- 
erosity, and  by  a  fine  Christian  honor.  Generosity, 
then,  is  the  rule  in  all  questions  of  self  towards  others. 
And  then,  last,  as  to  that  still  higher  judgment, — the 
judgment  of  self  before  God.  We  need  no  generous 
measures,  only  consciousness  of  self  as  it  is.  I  must  ask 
myself  simply,  What  am  I?  what  thoughts  do  I  harbor? 
what  ends  do  I  pursue?  what  do  I  love  and  hate?  I 
am  a  creature ;  am  I  grateful  and  humble  to  the  dust 
before  my  Creator?  I  am  redeemed  from  death;  am  I 
thankful  and  trustful  and  obedient?  What  is  the  fact? 
And  remember  what  you  candidly  say  of  yourself  to-day 
and  here  God  v/ill  say  of  you,  a  little  farther  on,  at  the 
great  judgment-seat.  "  Beloved,  if  our  heart  condemn 
us,  God  is  greater  than  our  heart,  and  knoweth  all 
things.  Beloved,  if  our  heart  condemn  us  not,  then 
have  we  confidence  toward  God." 

We  have   glanced   now,  only  glanced,  at  the  whole 
range  and  solemnity  of  the  judgment  given  to  man  as 


264  THE   OFFICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 

made  in  the  image  of  God  the  Judge.  I  have  said 
that  we  are  appointed  judges  of  truth,  —  we,  and  not 
somebody  else,  however  high  and  venerable.  I  have 
said  that  we  are  appointed  judges  of  our  fellows,  to 
announce  judgment  towards  them,  to  set  right  the 
wrongs  of  the  world,  yet  to  do  it  in  mercy.  I  have 
said  we  are  set  for  the  judgment  of  self,  to  rehearse  the 
coming  judgment-day  of  God.  Who  then  recognizes 
his  great  place  as  judge?  Who  remembers  that  the 
constitution  of  his  nature  and  the  example  of  Christ 
call  him  "to  do  justice  and  to  love  mercy;  "  to  judge, 
but  in  the  Lord's  purity,  and  in  his  sweetness  and 
mercy, — judging  others  as  we  ourselves  may  hope  to 
be  judged? 


XXVI. 

GOD'S    REBUKE    OF    APPEARANCES. 

When  the  viorriing  was  co7?ie,  ail  the  chief  priests  ajid  eiders 
of  the  peopie  took  coiinsei  against  fesiis  to  put  him  to  death.  — 
Matt,  xxvii.  i. 

''  I  "O  any  thoughtful  person,  whatever  his  beHef,  there 
-*"  is  indescribable  interest  in  the  scenes  just  pre- 
ceding the  death  of  Christ.  The  closing  of  his  story,  it 
seems,  was  meant  to  be  the  most  impressive  record  of 
this  world.  I  mean  to  speak  of  this  great  scene, 
excluding  everything  else  and  everything  higher,  with 
but  one  thought  mainly  in  view,  —  God's  rebuke  of  ap- 
pearances, —  as  a  vast  illustration  of  those  words  which 
the  Lord  himself  once  uttered :  ''  Judge  not  according 
to  the  appearance,  but  judge  righteous  judgment." 

If  we  consider  this  scene  as  it  was  looked  at  then,  and 
as  it  was  in  fact,  we  shall  see,  as  we  never  saw  before, 
the  rebuke  of  appearances,  first  in  showing  how  guilt 
may  look  like  virtue,  and  virtue  like  guilt.  There  at 
that  moment  was  virtue  itself,  it  would  seem,  in  the 
form  of  high  accusers,  standing  for  God  and  his  law, 
and  ready  to  vindicate  that  great  cause.  Who  were 
they?     They  were   the   high   dignitaries  of  the  Jewish 


266  GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES. 

people,  engaged  for  religion  and  order  against  innova- 
tion, the  venerable  protectors  of  the  sacred  past.  There 
also  was  guilt,  in  the  form  of  a  man  accused  and  finally 
condemned.  He  seemed  to  be  a  singular  person,  for 
a  time  popular  with  the  mass,  but  one  who  could  not 
long  be  popular  with  any  mass;  besides,  he  was  de- 
tested by  the  great  heads,  for  his  views  threatened  the 
comfort  and  respectability  of  the  better  classes,  and 
indeed  the  existing  order  of  things. 

There  he  stands  quite  friendless,  obviously  guilty  and 
accursed;  for  are  not  the  rulers  against  him?  is  not 
public  opinion  against  him?  are  not  the  ardor  and  cries 
of  the  multitude  joined  with  the  gravity  of  the  rulers  and 
the  aged,  —  the  one  vitalizing,  the  other  consecrating 
the  cause?  So  the  man  before  them  is  obviously  igno- 
minious; their  hearts  feel  it,  and  he  looks  so  to  their 
very  eyes.  Such  is  the  color  of  power,  which  can  make 
the  blue  of  the  heavens  take  a  different  tint. 

So  he  looked  to  them,  while  they  looked  to  them- 
selves in  every  point  pure  and  respectable  persons. 
They  went  not  into  the  Roman  *'  judgment-hall,  lest 
they  should  be  defiled,  but  that  they  might  eat  the 
passover."  Indeed,  so  pure,  and  with  this  blood  upon 
their  hands !  They  were  also  grateful  for  God's  deliver- 
ances ;  at  least  they  religiously  kept  the  passover,  and 
at  this  moment,  when  about  to  eat  the  paschal  lamb, 
whose  blood  saved  the  early  Hebrews,  they  make  ready 
to  destroy  that  other  lamb,  **  which  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world." 


GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES.  26/ 

See  these  merciful,  scrupulous,  devout,  theological 
Jews,  —  see  how  sacred  their  guilt  appears;  and  see  the 
very  highest,  holiest,  looking  so  low  in  the  opinion  of 
the  moment  that  every  man  can  spit  upon  him,  and  his 
assigned  place  is  between  two  crucified  thieves.  They 
forget  their  own  history,  —  the  few  pure  and  high 
against  the  many  low ;  they  take  for  granted  that  what 
is  on  top  is  best;  theirs  is  the  old  feeling  which  slew 
the  prophets,  namely,  this  man  is  not  according  to  our 
ideas,  therefor  he  is  wrong,  hateful,  fit  to  be  killed. 
We  know  something  of  Jesus  Christ:  there  he  is,  judged 
and  felt  not  fit  to  live.  We  know  this  Jewish  mob, 
these  scribes  and  Pharisees :  there  they  all  are,  swell- 
ing in  the  consciousness  of  virtue  and  virtuous  indig- 
nation, vindicating  religion  and  saving  their  country. 
There  were  no  doubt  secret  misgivings  among  them ; 
and  woe  unto  the  man  who  does  not  listen  when  the 
soul  hints  he  is  wrong ! 

There  were  three  parties  on  this  occasion  who  claimed 
to  have  knowledge.  The  Jewish  leaders  first:  "We 
have  a  law."  They  claimed  to  know  truth.  Pilate  also 
claimed  to  know.  When  Christ  spoke  of  ''  the  truth,'* 
Pilate  turned  away  with  a  sneering  doubt,  and  said, 
''What  is  truth,  —  that  is,  who  claims  to  know?  Have 
not  all  the  minds  of  all  the  schools  left  it  where  they 
found  it,  —  in  endless  uncertainty?"  Here  spoke  the 
sad  result  of  all  Greek  and  Roman  thought,  —  doubt: 
''  We  know  only  that  we  can't  know."  Pilate  felt  that 
he  was   a  master  in  this  matter,  that  he  had  reached 


268  GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES. 

the  glorious  end  of  all  philosophy,  and  took  his  seat 
on  nothing. 

The  Jew  was  proudly  certain  that  his  half-truths  or 
his  falsehoods  were  God's  truth;  the  Roman  was 
proudly  certain  that  no  man  knew  anything  about  it; 
and  between  these  two  the  thought  of  the  world  was 
then  divided.  But  there  was  a  third  Person  here.  He 
stood  in  the  presence  of  the  two  august  authorities  in 
the  domain  of  thought,  and  of  all  the  results  they  had 
reached,  and  quietly  claimed  that  the  truth  was  with 
him.  **  Then  Pilate  entered  into  the  judgment-hall 
again,  and  called  Jesus,  and  said  unto  him,  Art  thou 
the  King  of  the  Jews?  Jesus  answered,  My  kingdom 
is  not  of  this  world.  .  .  .  Pilate  therefore  said  unto  him, 
Art  thou  a  king  then?  Jesus  answered.  Thou  sayest 
that  I  am  a  king.  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for  this 
cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  witness 
unto  the  truth."  A  king,  but  not  of  this  world,  —  a 
witness  unto  the  truth,  and  all  they  who  are  of  the 
truth  will  range  themselves  under  him. 

Contrast  the  imposing  Jewish  truth,  the  learning  and 
refinement  of  the  rabbis  and  doctors ;  contrast  the  im- 
posing philosophic  doubt  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
world,  —  contrast  all  this  with  the  quiet  voice  of  a  seem- 
ing criminal  just  about  to  be  crucified,  who  said,  amid 
sneers,  that  he  was  the  king  of  the  truth;  and  then 
remember  where  Jewish  and  Roman  truth  is  to-day,  — 
antiquated,  dwarfed,  swept  with  the  dust  into  a  corner, 
—  and  remember  that  to-day  the  thought  of  this  crimi- 


GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES.  269 

nal  shapes  all  virtue ;  that  in  the  line  of  his  truth  the 
world  runs  and  must  run ;  that  on  the  certainty  of  his 
convictions  we  stand  as  on  our  only  rock ;  that  if  his 
voice  were  silent,  the  invisible  world  would  sink  back,  if 
not  into  total  darkness,  at  least  into  shadows ;  the  face 
of  God  the  Father  of  men  would  unshape  itself  into 
an  idol,  perhaps  into  a  monstrous  nothing,  —  no  God; 
that  if  his  voice  were  silent,  the  whole  earth  would  un- 
christianize  itself,  its  moral  promise  wither,  and  the 
human  heart  itself  die  in  the  human  bosom. 

I  see  here  the  Jewish  prince,  Herod,  **  with  his  men 
of  war,"  —  Herod,  the  representative  of  that  line  of 
kings  who  succeeded  to  the  very  kingship  of  God ;  here 
stands  Pilate  in  his  judgment-hall,  representing  the 
imperial  might  and  the  imperial  law  of  Rome;  with 
them  stand  a  unique  set  of  men,  rulers  and  priests  and 
scribes,  representing  perhaps  the  oldest,  certainly  the 
most  singular  and  by  far  the  highest  and  most  sacred 
religion  of  the  world,  —  properly,  indeed,  its  only  re- 
ligion, —  in  the  background  the  wonderful  temple  of 
that  religion;  all  this  stands  here,  and  all  this  is  at 
the  moment  supported  by  the  popular  will  of  a  nation, 
by  the  masses  of  the  Jewish  people. 

This  is  imposing,  to  be  sure.  This  is  the  appear- 
ance; but  what  is  beneath  it?  As  to  the  prince  of 
the  Jewish  people,  he  is  but  a  poor  worldling  and 
trifler,  and  plays  his  high  part  as  judge  by  using  the  ' 
occasion  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  and  to  amuse  his 
luxurious  leisure ;   for  when  he  "  saw  Jesus  he  was  ex-    : 


2/0  GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES. 

ceeding  glad,  because  he  had  heard  many  things  of 
him,  and  he  hoped  to  have  seen  some  miracle  done 
by  him."  As  to  the  Roman  governor  representing 
Roman  justice,  —  the  wisest  and  most  impartial  jus- 
tice the  world  had  ever  known,  —  what  does  he?  He 
is  awed  and  superstitiously  impressed  by  the  presence 
of  Christ,  says,  **  I  find  no  fault  in  him,"  yet  from 
selfish  fears  and  selfish  interests  yields,  and  *'  delivers 
him  to  be  crucified."  And  as  to  the  imposing  heads 
of  the  church  of  God,  whose  law  was  **  to  do  justice 
and  judgment,"  so  mean  and  malignant  and  cruel  were 
their  hearts,  that  it  was  as  if  the  sacred  robe  of  the 
high  priest  covered  a  monster.  Yet  how  high  it  all 
was!  And  as  for  Him,  —  what  is  he?  A  thing '' de- 
spised and  rejected."  Yet  how  infinitely  difi"erent  the 
fact ! 

Again :  I  see  here  how  deceptive  are  the  appear- 
ances of  shame  and  of  glory;  for  manifestly  it  was 
true  once,  and  may  be  true  again,  that  just  in  that 
thing  where  the  stain  of  ignominy  seems  blackest  a 
peculiar  honor  may  come  to  shine. 

Nothing  in  the  last  scenes  of  Christ  aftects  my  own 
mind  so  much  as  the  shame  and  mocking,  —  mocking 
so  keen  and  contemptuous,  —  a  depth  of  malignant 
irony  such  as  I  know  nowhere  else.  "  Herod  with 
his  men  of  war  set  him  at  naught,  and  mocked  him, 
and  arrayed  him  in  a  gorgeous  robe."  Except  Pilate, 
they  all  mocked,  —  Herod,  the  soldiers,  the  spectators 
under  the  cross,  the   priests,  —  all.     They  mocked  his 


GOnS  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES.  2Jl 

kingship,  and  the  idea  of  his  power.  '*  They  that 
passed  by  reviled  him,  wagging  their  heads,  and  say- 
ing. Thou  that  destroyest  the  temple,  and  buildest  it 
in  three  days,  save  thyself;  "  and  it  was  reserved,  last 
of  all,  for  the  chief  priests  with  the  scribes  to  mock. 
I  see  here,  also,  how  poor  are  our  ideas  of  success  and 
defeat.  At  that  moment  all  the  world  had  declared 
for  wrong,  and  Holiness  and  Love  hung  nailed  to 
the  cross.  The  few  poor  friends  of  Christ  *'  forsook 
him  and  fled;  "  and  that  hour  was  so  awful  to  them 
that  they  felt  the  earth  shake  beneath  their  feet,  and 
darkness  was  over  the  w^hole  land  from  the  sixth  to 
the  ninth  hour.  It  was  certainly  the  hour  and  power 
of  darkness.  The  crowd  dispersed ;  the  priests,  much 
pleased,  went  back  to  the  temple,  the  governor  to  his 
palace.  Jesus  was  dead,  and  Satan  had  sat  down  on 
the  throne  of  the    world. 

It  was  finished,  then,  in  the  blackness  of  darkness, 
and  just  then  the  universal  dayspring  broke  in  the 
east.  From  that  moment  he  took,  and  will  take  for- 
ever his  place.  The  Being  most  ignominious,  most 
mocked,  becomes  forever  —  on  that  continent,  on  this, 
to  you,  to  me,  and  to  the  child  born  thousands  of 
years  hence  —  our  Master,  our  Lord,  our  Lord  God ; 
and  to  him  every  knee  shall  bow ;  and  his  blood  and 
sorrows  shall  cleanse  and  heal  all  sinful  and  broken 
hearts  forevermore ;  his  name  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  And  those  Jews,  howling  like  wolves  upon 
his  path,  —  as  they  recede  from  us  we  see  them  cov- 


2/2  GOD'S  REBUKE    OF  APPEARANCES, 

ered  with  shame  and  hissing,  and  his  blood,  alas ! 
sprinkled  upon  them  and  upon  their  children.  So  in 
,  the  great  magic  of  Providence  the  pictures  of  false 
glory  grow  black,  its  crowns  wither,  while  the  image 
of  holiness  and  love,  marred  and  stained,  is  set 
upon  a  throne  which  is  *'  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting." 

This  whole  scene  I  consider  as  a  rebuke  of  false 
appearances;  for  here  is  exhibited  such  a  profound 
contrast  between  reality  and  show,  between  what  is 
and  what  seems,  that  we  almost  see  an  invisible  per- 
son pointing  his  unmoving  finger  at  the  whole.  I  see 
here  on  the  grandest  scale  such  complicated  irony  as 
I  know  not  of  in  any  record,  —  the  irony  of  facts ; 
that  is,  facts  so  dramatically  organized  as  to  present 
the  most  gigantic  godlike  contempt  of  the  false  gran- 
deurs, wisdom,  dignity  of  man.  Man  needs  hum- 
bling; the  mean  greatness  of  the  false  heart  needs 
to  be  exposed ;  and  this  is  done  at  the  cross  of  Christ. 
How  it  came  to  be  thus  done,  I  can  only  explain  in 
one  way, — that  it  was  a  purposed,  deliberate,  divine 
mock  of  wrong  and  false  men.  God  is  accustomed 
so  to  speak  and  act  in  the  Bible.  Why  should  we 
be  shocked,  then,  that  the  divine  vengeance,  which 
shines  lurid  about  every  wrong  deed,  should  speak 
most  keenly  at  the  death  of  Christ? 

Shall  the  solemn  scorn  at  the  littleness  and  blind- 
ness of  sin,  which  we  may  see  everywhere  in  history, 
—  in  our  own  lives,  indeed,  if  we  look  closely,  —  shall 


GOUS  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES.  2/3 

this  not  be  seen  also  in  that  one  awful  history?  There 
the  very  ideal  of  wrong,  covered  with  power,  con- 
fronted the  meek  and  beautiful  Spirit  of  heaven,  tow- 
ered over  him,  scorned  him,  ironized  him,  put  a  reed 
in  his  hand  for  a  sceptre;  and  shall  not  the  Divine 
Justice  at  that  supreme  moment  come  forth  and  re- 
verse the  whole,  and  present  this  proud  and  cruel 
show  to  everlasting  shame?  Yes;  a  divine  Spirit  so 
ordered,  and  there  stands  the  grand  retributive  mock- 
ing. Pilate  thought,  no  doubt,  it  was  his  own  sneer, 
when  full  of  contempt  he  wrote  a  title,  in  Hebrew, 
and  Greek,  and  Latin,  ''  Jesus  of  Nazareth  the  King 
of  the  Jews ;  "  but  his  sneer  is  lost  in  the  godlike,  un- 
speakable irony  which  is  behind  it.  Who  does  not 
see  divine  indignation  coming  out  boldly  everywhere, 
and  sculpturing  itself  in  eternal  images  of  scorn? 
Why,  it  arrests  one  almost  as  much  as  if  God  himself 
had  stepped  upon  the  scene. 

What  is  the  purpose  in  all  this?  The  purpose  to 
shame  the  soul,  —  the  high  and  tyrannous  and  mean 
soul.  This  on  the  one  hand,  while  on  the  other  there 
is  an  opposite  and  just  as  clear  a  purpose,  —  to  let 
the  most  touching  love  be  so  cruelly  outraged,  to  let 
eyery  grace  and  nobleness  of  Christ  be  so  treated, 
made  so  abject  to  the  eye,  spit  upon,  ridiculed,  har- 
ried, crushed  out  of  life,  and  cast  away  as  refuse,  that 
from  under  all  this  its  inmost  glory  might  be  forced  to 
the  surface,  its  fragrance  of  divine  patience  and  pity 
and    boundless   loveliness  be  crushed  into  the    atmos- 


274  GOD'S  REBUKE   OF  APPEARANCES. 

phere,  that  we  might  see  there,  standing  side  by  side, 
sin  and  its  heavenly  contrast,  midnight  and  morning; 
and  so  that  we  all  with  an  immortal  repugnance  might 
be  driven  from  the  one,  and  with  an  immortal  drawing 
might  turn  to  the  other. 


XXVII. 

THE    SPIRIT    OF    CHRIST. 

Lift  up  your  heads ^  O  ye  gates ;  and  be  ye  lifted  up^  ye  everlasting 
doors ;  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in.  —  Ps.  xxiv.  7. 

T  TAKE  the  spirit  of  Christ  to  be  the  perfect  rule, 
-■-  not  only  of  individual  life,  but  of  society,  of  busi- 
ness, of  government,  and  of  all  law;  for  the  spirit  of 
Christ  is  the  ideal  of  humanity.  It  is  the  perfect  soul  in 
all  its  relations  public  and  private,  full  of  justice,  fair- 
ness, wisdom,  and  self-sacrifice.  But  that  full  spirit  of 
Christ  is  kept  out,  defeated,  or  at  least  limited  by  vari- 
ous necessities,  but  chiefly  by  human  selfishness  and 
ignorance,  so  that  it  is  the  great  duty  of  man,  in  all  the 
departments  of  life,  to  give  that  spirit  fuller  and  fuller 
entrance.     ''  Lift  up  your  heads." 

Christ  is  kept  out  of  our  lives,  not  only  in  our  prac- 
tice, but  as  a  rule  of  living.  The  men  of  this  age  are 
not  living  under  even  a  rule  of  absolute  perfection,  —  far 
from  it,  —  but  under  a  rule  allowed  to  be  more  or  less 
loose  and  accommodated.  The  rule  set  up  is  not  only 
an  adaptation,  but  a  compromise ;  not  only  an  adapta- 
tion to  the  necessary,  but  an  unnecessary  compromise 
with   the  world.     For   example,  the   considerations  of 


276  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST. 

rank  in  aristocratic  communities,  while  it  is  right  they 
should  modify  the  rule  of  Christian  brotherhood,  do  in 
fact  so  much  compromise  and  lower  the  rule  towards  the 
mean  and  poor  as  to  make  it  not  a  little  unchristian. 

But  this  non-admission  of  the  pure  Christian  rule  is 
prominently  and  painfully  evident  in  international  and 
civil  law,  in  business  and  society.  International  law  has 
yet  to  lift  the  head  of  its  gates  much  higher  for  the  full 
entrance  of  the  King  of  glory;  for  hitherto  and  until 
lately  it  has  been  contracted  down  to  self  and  the  rule 
of  mere  power.  Even  civil  law,  the  boast  of  the  rea- 
son and  justice  of  men,  must  yet  lift  the  roof  of  its  tem- 
ple, if  it  would  let  in  the  full  soul  of  Christ.  And  as  to 
society  and  business,  they  need  not  be  spoken  of.  The 
law  of  the  lady  and  gentleman,  the  rule  of  the  man  of 
honor  and  of  the  woman  of  fashion,  the  usage  of  the 
merchant,  are  evidently  not  illumined  by  the  full  pres- 
ence of  the  King  of  glory. 

The  reminder,  then,  to-day  is  to  admit  a  purer  Chris- 
tian usage  into  all  the  great  departments  of  life ;  but 
specially,  let  me  say,  in  the  great  relations  of  rich  and 
poor,  the  employer  and  the  laborer.  Before  us  appears 
an  insurrection  of  labor,  amounting  almost  to  a  revolu- 
tion. We  ask  why?  Whatever  else  may  be  also  true,  it 
is  clear  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  not  in  our  business,  — ■ 
at  least  not  in  the  workshop  side  of  it,  —  for  it  is  an  in- 
surrection with  less  cause,  less  justification,  than  in  any 
case  ever  heard  of  in  the  history  of  man.  If  such  are 
the  acts  of  our  people  under  little,  perhaps  no  oppres- 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST.  277 

slon,  under  little  suffering,  what  ought  to  be  the  out- 
break of  the  poor  English  laborer,  and  what  ought  the 
French  Revolution  to  have  been,  under  the  cruel,  inde- 
scribable wrongs  of  that  people?  Some  self-sacrifice, 
of  course,  was  necessary  to  our  workmen;  but  to  bear 
nothing  to  help  the  country  and  brotherhood,  groaning 
as  it  now  is  under  its  many  burdens,  and  at  the  first 
touch  of  wrongs  (chiefly  imaginary)  to  break  from  law 
and  destroy,  may  show  at  least  how  much  labor  is  pam- 
pered and  spoiled  in  America.  To  many  despondent 
people  it  seems  to  show  more.  They  see  in  the  wild 
outbreak  along  the  avenues  of  commerce  in  many 
States,  in  the  long  lines  of  burning  property,  in  mobs 
commanding  that  trade  shall  stop,  —  in  the  horror  and 
glare  of  all  this  they  see  the  very  face  of  French  com- 
munism. Yet  to  tamper  with  it  will,  in  my  judgment, 
make  it  a  much  more  serious  business ;  to  speak  soft 
words  to  it,  to  fraternize  with  malefactors,  —  I  mean  the 
real  malefactors,  for  I  know  that  the  workman  was 
often  innocent  or  half  innocent,  —  I  say  for  the  sake  of 
interest  or  false  pity  to  be  recreant  to  law  on  the  part 
of  the  responsible  classes,  will  show  that  the  real  spirit 
of  the  law  of  Christ  is  not  only  not  in  the  workshop, 
but  not  in  the  parlor  of  the  president  and  the  director, 
or  the  homes  of  stockholders.  Of  course,  give  to  the 
worthy  workman  full  justice.  If  the  times  are  hard, 
the  Christian  will  give  better  wages  and  sweeten  them 
with  kindness;  but  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  not 
weak,  is  not  a  silly  mercy.     It  will,  to  the  misguided. 


2/8  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST. 

give  correction,  with  pity;  but  to  the  thieving  incen- 
diary, the  wanton  insurrectionist,  it  gives  the  cold  hand 
of  law,  —  it  gives  reluctant  but  unflinching  force.  Shall 
we  let  such  as  you  ruin  the  Ark  of  God? 

I  speak  in  view  of  great  interests  injured;  but  far 
beyond  that,  in  view  of  law  violated  under  a  free  gov- 
ernment of  the  people.  And  my  view  is  that  if  the 
wrong  be  as  great  and  uncalled  for  as  it  seems  to  be, 
so  great  and  decided  and  exemplary  should  be  the  set- 
tlement. To  be  settled  fitly,  it  must  be  settled,  if  not 
by  an  eminence  of  penalty  as  great  as  the  crime,  yet 
the  settlement  should  be  exemplary;  and  if  settled 
otherwise,  the  spirit  of  good  government  is  deserting 
both  sides  of  our  business.  Law,  —  law  is  the  only 
king  of  a  free  people ;  to  withstand  it  with  violence  is 
next  to  treason,  and  is,  as  the  apostle  says,  *'  to  bring 
to  ourselves  damnation."  "  When  I  go  into  a  coun- 
try," Montesquieu  once  remarked,  ''  I  do  not  inquire 
whether  they  have  good  laws  (for  these  they  have 
everywhere),  but  I  ask  whether  these  laws  are  exe- 
cuted." If  we  Americans  lose  the  honor  of  exe- 
cuted laws,  we  lose  the  common  honor  of  Christian 
civilization. 

After  great  sacrifices  this  outbreak  will  of  course  be 
mastered,  and  the  country  awake  from  this  hideous 
dream.  But  the  sign  and  proof  will  remain  of  a  deep 
vice  in  society,  the  first  great  sign  among  us  of  the 
reversal  of  the  evils  of  old  society;  that  is,  tyranny 
and    outrage    at   the   top    of   society  beginning   to  be 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST.  279 

changed  to  tyranny  and  outrage  from  the  bottom. 
And  the  question  is,  Has  this  vice  shown  itself  too 
late  for  remedy?  Ah!  we  stood  still  and  allowed  the 
government  of  our  fathers  (itself  a  perilous  but  most 
benign  experiment),  we  stood  still  and  allowed  the 
politician  to  change  it  into  a  new  experiment,  —  the 
experiment  of  a  government  of  mere  numbers.  We 
gave  the  vote  to  ignorance  and  barbarism  from  abroad 
and  to  ignorance  and  barbarism  at  home,  and  are  now 
surprised  that  power  seems  to  be  passing  downwards, 
and  begins  to  assert  itself  as  King  at  the  bottom.  It  is 
a  call  to  deep  thought.  We  have  allowed  to  pass  from 
our  hands  one  of  our  very  greatest  securities. 

Still,  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  take  too  gloomy  a 
view  of  the  future,  and  who  think  that  in  the  midst  of 
our  rich  country  we  are  sitting  as  Belshazzar  at  the 
Feast,  while  the  fingers  of  a  man's  hand  are  writing 
doom  upon  the  wall.  I  do  not  feel  in  this  way.  We 
have  a  main  security  left,  I  think.  It  is  not  in  the  rich, 
it  is  not  in  the  poor,  but  in  that  enormous  class  of 
moderate  and  small  capitalists  which  makes  the  real 
body  of  the  American  people,  whose  interests  and 
sympathies  are  with  order,  and  whose  mass  is  so  great 
that  it  can  never  be  shaken  by  outbreak.  Were  the 
nation  divided  into  the  few  rich  and  the  many  poor, 
there  would  be  no  security  for  one  hour;  but  now  in 
any  question  between  labor  and  capital  that  great  in- 
termediate class,  which  is  in  effect  a  mediating  class, 
must   declare    for   order;    for   they  have    come  up  by 


28o  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST. 

acquiring  even  a  little  property,  they  have  come  up 
into  the  class  of  order.  They  have  undergone  the 
magic  process  by  which  the  radical  becomes  a  con- 
servative as  if  in  a  moment.  They  have  entered  upon 
civilization.  There  may  be  sudden  outbreaks  of  the 
laborers  or  the  idle,  but  they  can  never  become  vital 
so  long  as  the  interests  and  feelings  of  this  wide 
middle  mass  are  against  them.  So  that  though  there 
may  be,  and  probably  will  be,  gradual  but  orderly 
encroachments  on  the  rights  of  great  wealth,  —  that 
is  much  to  be  feared,  for  we  have  some  proof  of  it 
already,  —  yet  that  will  not  be  great  while  the  perma- 
nent existence  of  society  and  of  a  government  ad- 
ministered in  the  interests  of  the  body  of  the  people 
are,  I  think,  sure. 

So  much  I  am  happy  to  say.  With  all  our  shocks 
and  fears,  this  I  believe  to  be  a  government  as  per- 
manent as  any.  But  to  make  society  something 
better  than  this,  to  make  it  worthy  of  the  hope  with 
which  it  began,  that  is  a  different  thing;  for  that  we 
have  much  to  do.  The  spirit  of  Christ  must  come  in, 
the  heads  of  the  gates,  the  everlasting  doors  of  the 
heart,  must  be  lifted,  that  the  King  of  glory  may 
enter.  A  nation,  I  repeat,  we  shall  continue  to  be,  —  a 
nation  great  in  material  interests,  guarded  by  the  in- 
stincts of  a  thriving  people;  but  nothing  beyond  this 
is  feasible  without  patriotism  towards  the  State  and  a 
Christian  heart  in  our  business  and  society,  and  spe- 
cially a  Christian    heart    in  that   great    relation  of  the 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST.  28 1 

poor  and  the  rich.  Education,  as  it  is  called,  will  do 
something;  but  character,  far  more  Christ,  or  at  least 
some  shadow  of  Christ,  must  enter  into  all  depart- 
ments, —  specially,  as  I  have  said,  into  the  workshop 
and  the  palace,  —  and  turn  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to 
the  children,  and  of  the  children  to  the  fathers,  and 
in  the  spirit  of  grateful  love  from  below,  and  of  gen- 
erous love  from  above,  bind  together  the  mighty 
opposites  of  society. 

So  far  I  have  spoken  as  if  bearing  more  against  the 
poor  than  the  rich ;  but  I  have  done  so  simply  because 
here  and  at  the  present  moment  it  seems  to  be  just, 
for  power  here  sways  to  the  side  of  the  poor  (after 
long  centuries  of  injustice  and  sorrow),  and  I  rejoice 
at  it;  and  only  because  it  begins  to  be  abused  do  I 
denounce  the  abuse.  I  speak  in  the  interests  not 
merely  of  the  rich  but  of  the  poor  man,  whom  I 
would  save  from  himself  to  keep  our  noble  Christian 
law  for  his  children.  Were  this  England,  I  hope  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  do  as  the  English  Established 
pulpit  did,  or  many  of  its  clergy,  for  three  centuries, 
and  nearly  until  to-day.  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
stand  up  on  the  side  of  place  and  power,  flattering 
them,  and  treading  into  lower  submission  the  brother- 
hood already  so  far  down.  But  here  and  now  the 
case  is  much  changed.  England  Is  growing  glorioush' 
right,  and  we,  in  the  other  direction,  are  growing 
wrong. 

I  have  said  enough  on  the  one  side,  and  must  turn 


282  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST. 

before  I  close  for  a  moment  to  the  other,  and  exhort 
the  rich  to  let  the  beautiful  spirit  of  the  King  of 
glory  appear  in  them  more  and  more.  And  whom 
do  I  mean  by  the  rich?  I  mean  not  four  or  five  of 
eminent  wealth,  —  I  mean  almost  all  the  people  before 
me,  nay,  those  much  below  the  class  before  me.  And 
I  say  to  all,  Let  Christ  appear  in  us.  There  is  much 
'demand  for  his  presence,  I  assure  you.  You  will  not 
find  your  duty  easy;  for  the  temper  of  the  poor 
and  rich  is,  if  not  naturally  opposed,  easily  made  so, 
hide  the  fact  as  we  may.  The  interests  of  labor  and 
capital  look  to  be  different.  And  so  the  proud  rich 
and  the  proud  poor  make  a  dreadful  jar  together. 
Christ's  gracious  sweetness  is  the  only  secret  of  cure 
on  the  part  of  the  rich,  and  yet  it  is  very  hard  for 
them  to  acquire  and  keep  it.  It  is  easy  to  be  senti- 
mental about  brotherhood,  to  talk  about  it  in  church, 
but  hard  facts  try  it.  For  the  poor  and  our  depend- 
ents often  require  of  us  as  much  forbearance  as  chil- 
dren, without  the  interest  of  children;  and  that  we 
should  in  the  face  of  all  our  distastes  ''  consider  "  the 
poor,  —  his  bad  birth,  his  bad  education,  which  have 
shaped  his  soul  badly,  — "  consider  him  and  forbear 
him,"  that  is  not  easy.  For  the  self-sacrifice  of  the 
rich  is  hard  while  it  is  so  pleasant  and  easy  to  use 
power  indolently  and  contemptuously.  Even  with  a 
little  of  Christ's  spirit,  there  is  still  no  such  beautiful 
brotherhood  as  might  easily  be  made  between  poor 
and  rich.     Even  in   this   country,  where    many  of  the 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST.  283 

poor  are  half  spoiled,  and  many  of  the  rich  half 
spoiled,  still  the  heart  of  the  poor  man  is  easily 
touched  by  the  consideration  of  the  rich  man,  and 
the  rich  man's  heart  responds  quickly  to  right  feeling 
in  the  poor.  Ah !  if  but  the  shadow  of  Christ's  kind- 
ness were  to  fall  into  either  class,  it  would  make  life 
beautiful.  Hear  then,  my  high  brother,  my  high 
sister,  and  suffer  this  word  of  exhortation :  "  Masters, 
give  unto  your  servants  that  which  is  just  and  equal, 
remembering  that  you  also  have  a  master  in  heaven." 
Are  you  already  liberal  of  your  gifts  and  kindness 
for  the  good  of  the  poor  and  for  the  public  good? 
God  be  praised !  And  is  your  kindness  well  con- 
sidered and  wise  and  graciously  given  ?  God  be 
praised !  And  is  there  no  blame  for  lack  of  sym- 
pathy, for  proud  and  unfeeling  distance  from  **  the 
brotherhood  of  low  degree  "  ?  Then  God  be  praised  ! 
And  do  you  persist  in  your  goodness  though  ingrati- 
tude and  mean  criticism  surround  you?  Then  God 
be  most  praised !  Well  done !  Your  heart  remem- 
bers him.  You  have  fulfilled  the  sweet  charge  of 
the  divine  apostle :  "  Charge  them  that  are  rich  in  this 
world,  that  they  be  not  high-minded,  nor  trust  in  un- 
certain riches,  but  in  the  living  God ;  .  .  .  that  they  do 
good,  that  they  be  rich  in  good  works,  ready  to  dis- 
tribute, willing  to  communicate,  laying  up  in  store  for 
themselves  treasures  in  heaven ;  .  .  .  who  being  rich, 
yet  for  our  sakes  became  poor,  that  we  through  his 
poverty  might  be  made  rich." 


XXVIII. 

THEY   REWARDED   EVIL  FOR    GOOD. 
They  rewarded  7ne  evil  for  good ^  to  the  spoiling  of  ?ny  soul.  — 

PS.    XXXV.    12. 

1\  /TAN  is  made  by  society;  yet  unmade  also.  In 
^^ ^  ways  suspected  and  unsuspected  each  man  is 
really  injured  as  well  as  benefited  by  his  fellows;  and  it 
would  be  an  art  indeed,  —  that  of  getting  the  good,  and 
guarding  from  the  evil  of  society.  The  amount  of  this 
evil  is  great,  and  the  forms  of  it  are  various.  Take  the 
case  of  slighted  genius,  —  "  the  vision  and  the  faculty 
divine,"  —  which  goes  through  a  whole  generation 
without  a  smile,  while  all  the  rewards  of  the  world  are 
poured  into  the  lap  of  word-mongers:  that  surely 
makes  the  heart  ache.  While  men  of  genius  are  left  in 
garrets,  we  see  the  thrones  of  society  occupied  with  men 
whose  places  are  in  the  garrets !  And  when,  added  to 
this,  superior  gifts  are  accompanied  with  painful  labors 
and  preparations,  and  when  they  are  blended  with 
high  characteristics  of  soul,  as  in  many  sorts  of  ability 
they  necessarily  are,  then  of  course  the  injustice  be- 
comes great,  of  treating  them  with  a  blindness  that  will 
not  discriminate,  or  with  indifference  or  neglect. 


THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR  GOOD.         285 

**  They  rewarded  me  evil  for  good,  to  the  spoiling  of 
my  soul."  The  thing  especially  meant  by  good  here 
is,  first,  where  a  man  has  done  or  is  trying  to  do  his 
duty  in  general ;  that  sort  of  good  when  he  is  conscious 
that  he  has  done  no  wrong,  or  conscious  only  of  simple- 
hearted  good  wishes.  The  young  are  the  most  obvious 
example  of  this.  Most  young  people  of  the  better 
sort  begin  life  honestly  and  with  fine  wishes  and  enthu- 
siasms. Starting  thus  with  high  mstincts,  abhorring 
meanness,  and  expecting  from  men  what  they  feel  in 
themselves,  blow  after  blow  of  injustice  strikes  them; 
they  are  awakened  into  a  horrible  reality ;  dashed,  out- 
raged, and  embittered ;  then  they  recover,  and  are  again 
thrown  off  and  recover,  and  recover  until  the  recovering 
power  is  gone ;  or  if  not  so  bad  as  that,  if  the  tenacity 
of  their  hearts  towards  good  remains,  still  the  inward 
spring  is  much  broken,  they  expect  little  and  will  do 
little,  and  their  justification  or  excuse  for  the  remnant 
of  their  days  is  spoken  sadly,  or  spoken  bitterly :  ''  They 
rewarded    me    evil    for    good,    to    the    spoiling   of    my 

soul." 

"  Candid  and  generous  and  just, 
Boys  care  but  little  whom  they  trust,  — 

An  error  soon  corrected  : 
For  who  but  learns  in  riper  years 
That  man  when  smothered  he  appears 
Is  most  to  be  suspected  ?  " 

But  the  same  injury  occurs  all  through  a  man's  life, 
and  it  is  partly  an  importunate  necessity  of  our  state 
that  we  should  so  be  treated.     Our  life  and  conduct  are 


286         THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR   GOOD. 

always  open  to  misconstruction  because  of  the  natural 
ignorance  we  have  of  one  another,  or  because  of  the 
weak  judgment  of  many  people,  or  because  many  are 
either  of  poor  hearts  originally,  or  they  themselves  have 
been  spoiled  by  the  same  sort  of  bad  treatment  long 
ago,  and  so  are  suspicious,  and  look  at  everything  on 
the  worst  side.  Here,  then,  each  man  is  surrounded  by 
a  multitude  of  such  judges,  a  cloud  of  such  witnesses, 
most  of  them  unauthorized,  either  by  natural  fitness,  to 
judge,  or  uncalled  to  it  by  their  connection  with  the 
thing  in  hand,  ''  busybodies  in  other  men's  matters,"  or 
at  least  incapable,  by  their  real  ignorance  of  the  matter, 
to  bear  any  testimony  or  to  give  any  judgment;  yet 
almost  all,  and  usually  in  proportion  to  their  unfitness, 
are  quick  to  give  decisions  or  piercing  suggestions 
about  the  vital  concerns  of  others !  As  to  which  I  say 
in  passing,  that  if  contempt  could  speak  down  from 
heaven  to  this  host  of  officious  usurpers  of  judgment, 
its  speech  would  be,  **Who  made  you  a  ruler  or  a 
judge? " 

Here  then,  either  from  the  natural  weakness  or  the 
common  pettiness  of  men,  there  is  a  sort  of  necessity 
for  much  111  treatment.  **  It  must  needs  be  that  of- 
fences come."  But  when  to  all  these  natural  or  at 
least  usual  incapacities  of  treating  one  another  nobly  is 
added  the  simple  fact  that  your  look,  demeanor,  ways, 
are  not  shaped  to  all  men's  fancies,  or  much  more, 
when  there  is  added  some  personal  feeling,  —  a  hurt 
vanity,    an    envy,    a   spiteful     grudge,    a   keen    Instinct 


THEY  REWARDED  EVIL   FOR  GOOD.         2^7 

against  another  which  is  awake  to  watch  him,  —  then  of 
course  the  ill  treatment  will  (if  it  dare)  go  much 
farther;  and  how  far  it  then  can  go,  how  utterly  men 
can  sink  even  the  recollection  of  justice,  almost  every 
one  has  occasion  at  some  time  to  learn.  The  Psalms 
of  David  are  full  of  notices  of  such  conduct  among 
those  enemies  of  his:  and  we,  though  so  much  more 
civilized  here,  have  much  of  the  same  thing  under 
smooth  pretence  and  quiet  unwarlike  manners. 

Whether  from  the  common  weakness  of  men,  or  from 
personal  prejudices  or  spite,  the  offence  will  come. 
And  it  is  almost  as  certain  that  every  time  it  does 
come,  every  time  the  innocent  man  meets  such  treat- 
ment, it  takes  off  some  of  his  brotherly  kindness  or 
hopefulness,  and  turns  some  more  drops  of  the  sweet 
milk  in  his  bosom  into  gall.  Every  man's  personal 
experience  will  give  him  enough  instances  of  this.  We 
can  all  remember,  I  suppose,  where  at  some  personal 
sacrifice  we  intended  some  worthy  thing  and  w^ere  met 
with  unthankfulness,  perhaps  with  even  an  ingenuity  of 
misconstruction  and  a  wantonness  of  wrong.  We  re- 
member how  it  touched  and  shrunk  our  hearts,  and 
after  years  have  passed,  and  when  we  can  look  back 
without  the  least  personal  feeling,  but  only  in  solemn 
and  melancholy  review,  we  murmur  to  ourselves,  **  They 
did  me  evil  and  it  injured  me."  It  is  true,  in  this  judg- 
ment we  may  rate  our  own  cause  too  favorably,  as  self 
usually  does;  still  there  are  many  times  when  our  view 
of  the  case  is  either   altogether  or   mainly  just.     The 


288         THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR  GOOD. 

outraged  Lear  in  that  great  poem  which  I  cannot  name 

without  seeing  its  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  through 

my  imagination,  in  that  poem  which  in  the  grandeur  of 

its  tragic  element  seems  written  by  the  sublimest  genius 

of  sorrow,  —  there,  the  old  king,  rent   and   blasted,  no 

doubt  because  of  his   proud  precipitancy,  was   himself 

the  starting  cause  of  his  own  woes !     Yet  he  was  but 

just  to  himself  when  he  said, — 

"  I  am  a  man 
More  sinned  against  than  sinning." 

Though  he  were  not  clear,  yet  he  was  wronged, 
spoiled,  maddened !  Could  I  open  the  long  roll  of 
cases  only  less  tragical,  the  long  roll  of  man's 
fodhsh  or  malignant  wrongs  to  man;  could  we  but 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  thing  as  it  is  now,  through 
empires,  cities,  streets,  and  most  of  all  in  families; 
could  all  the  varieties  and  shades  and  singularities  of 
this  injustice  be  painted  to  our  eyes;  and  could  we  but 
see  how  this  wrong  worked  out  on  all  sides  grief  and 
wretchedness  and  every  shape  of  pain,  how  the  better 
sort  of  human  beings,  and  often  the  sweetest  and  best, 
were  heart-wrung  by  a  harder  and  baser  class  below 
them,  —  ah !  could  we  look  deeper  into  the  spirits  of 
men,  and  see  the  spiritual  poison  of  injustice ;  if  we  could 
see  how  the  sweet  turned  at  its  cursed  touch  to  bitter, 
faith  to  distrust,  how  the  generous  expansions  of  the 
heart  were  contracted  and  shrivelled  all  through,  as  a 
cold  storm  shrivels  and  blasts  the  tender  germ  in  the 
spring;   if  we  could  watch  the  spirit  of  wrong  moving 


THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR  GOOD.         2S9 

like  a  night  through  society,  or  as  a  secret  pestilence 
through  the  great  atmosphere  of  the  globe  !  Appalling, 
I  say.  No  talk  of  it  can  match  it.  We  are  not  aware 
of  the  black  influence  poured  out  by  our  thoughtless 
injustice.  Take  heed  !  "  Take  heed  that  ye  offend  not 
one  of  these  little  ones."  What  does  the  Lord  mean? 
He  means,  I  think,  in  its  broadest  sense  to  guard  the 
defenceless,  the  comparatively  harmless  people  from 
the  strong  and  comparatively  unscrupulous,  not  merely 
to  defend  the  weak.  He  means  in  his  mercy  to  erect 
a  defence  for  the  spirit  of  man  against  man.  And  he 
adds,  —  and  there  are  but  few  things  like  it  among  his 
words,  —  "  It  were  better  for  that  man  that  a  millstone 
were  hung  about  his  neck  and  that  he  were  drowned  in 
the  depths  of  the  sea."  Let  us  take  heed.  If  we  do 
not  follow  the  sacrifices  of  Christ,  who  always  gave  him- 
self for  others,  yet  at  least  we  can  be  of  the  spirit  which 
hates  the  baseness  of  injustice,  cannot  bear  to  spoil 
another's  heart,  and  will  be  just,  and  purely  just,  at  any 
cost !  We  can  rise  to  that  at  least.  If  I  cannot  be  a 
Christian,  I  must  at  least  be  as  noble  as  a  Roman  or  a 
Greek.  If  it  were  not  that  there  is  a  sun  that  daily 
rises  on  this  night  and  purges  it;  if  it  were  not  that 
there  is  another  spirit  descended  from  heaven  and 
moving  on  the  face  of  society,  which  by  gracious  influ- 
ences corrects  and  sweetens,  —  if  it  were  not  for  this, 
justice  could  not  stem  the  tide,  man  would  destroy  man, 
and  all  souls  perish :  which  brings  me  to  the  second  topic, 
the  way  the  Christian  soul  is  to  meet  all  this  evil. 

19 


290         THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR  GOOD. 

'-'■  But  I  say  unto  you,  love  your  enemies."  Let  wrong 
not  arouse  more  wrong;  but  if  hell  itself  invades  you, 
let  that  but  prompt  your  soul  to  break  out  like  a  new 
heaven  to  meet  it.  There  are  people  who  will  take  one 
evil  and  make  ten  out  of  it.  They  are  like  a  broken 
mirror,  and  reflect  and  give  back  every  image  of  evil 
from  a  thousand  distorted  bits  and  in  a  thousand  dis- 
torted aspects.  But  we  must  thank  God  that  there  are 
other  people  who  check  the  tide  of  wrong,  convert  it, 
and  transfigure  it  into  good,  —  people  who  if  it  rained 
curses  would  turn  them  into  blessings  at  the  moment 
they  touched  the  ground.  ''  But  I  say  unto  you,  love 
ye  your  enemies."  If  you  do  but  do  good  to  them  who 
do  good  to  you  again,  do  not  even  the  publicans  so  ?  Do 
not  even  the  wretches  so?  But  the  children  of  your 
Father  have  a  far  better  style,  *'  for  he  sendeth  his  rain 
upon  the  just  and  unjust."  The  evil  of  the  earth  does 
not  spoil  the  sweet  heavens  and  make  them  like  iron 
and  shut  up  their  rains ;  and  shall  it  spoil  you,  a  child  of 
the  heavens?  Remember  the  spirit  you  are  of.  The 
earth  has  been  full  of  the  heroes  of  hate,  but  it  arrives 
at  last  to  the  heroes  of  love.  There  is  not  an  apostle, 
not  a  disciple  on  the  pages  of  the  New  Testament  who 
is  not  majestic  in  mercy.  The  keener,  more  vivid,  more 
vengeful  and  wilful  the  man,  the  finer  he  is  touched  and 
made  over  to  a  heavenly  sort  of  endurance  and  pity. 
See  Peter,  the  impetuous.  Recompense  to  no  man  "  evil 
for  evil,  or  railing  for  railing:  but  contrariwise,  blessing." 
See  Paul.    ''  Even  unto  this  present  hour  we  both  hunger, 


THEY  REWARDED  EVIL  FOR  GOOD.         291 

and  thirst,  and  are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no 
certain  dwelling-place ;  .  .  .  being  reviled  we  bless ;  be- 
ing persecuted  we  suffer  it:  being  defamed  we  entreat." 
And  oh,  above  all,  remember  Christ's  majesty  of  right- 
eousness and  love,  what  sort  and  quality  that  was ;  that 
though  they  rewarded  him  evil  for  good, — such  evil  for 
such  good,  —  it  was  not  to  the  spoiling  of  his  soul.  "  He 
was  not  overcome  of  the  evil,  but  overcame  evil  with 
good  ;  "  and  at  the  very  moment  when  wrong  had  reached 
the  top,  and  the  cup  was  full,  and  he  wrung  out  its  bitter- 
ness, he  said,  "  Father,  forgive  them :  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do."  They  did  know  what  they  did, 
the  heavens  themselves  charged  them  when  it  was  night 
over  the  whole  land  from  the  sixth  to  the  ninth  hour ; 
but  his  divinely  generous  construction  even  at  that 
moment  hoped  and  believed  that  at  the  centre  they 
were  ignorant,  and  shielded  them  from  the  wrath 
of  justice,  and  said,  ''Father,  forgive  them:  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do." 


XXIX. 

THE   POWER   OF  WILL. 

Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely .  —  Rev.  xxii.  1 7. 
All  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth.  —  Mark,  ix.  23. 

T  SPEAK  first  of  the  power  of  human  will  in  our 
-*•  life,  especially  in  religious  life.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  idea  of  soul-freedom  —  of  a  power  of  choice 
in  ourselves  —  is  a  practical  necessity;  for  a  man  can- 
not be  human,  or  lead  a  human  life,  without  con- 
sciousness of  free-will.  If  this  is  granted,  and  the  full 
weight  given  to  it,  if  we  start  with  the  consciousness 
of  such  a  spirit  in  ourselves,  then  all  the  other  great 
mysteries  outside  of  ourselves  which  puzzle  us  so 
much  —  the  mystery  of  God,  of  God  acting  in  miracle, 
the  efficacy  of  prayer  —  are  intelligible ;  but  with- 
out this  we  must  give  up  all  religion,  all  idea  of 
spirit,  shut  our  Bibles  and  Moral  Codes,  —  under- 
standing all  such  things  in  a  non-natural  sense,  —  go 
on  to  reduce  the  world  and  God  and  man  to  a  few 
simple  and  eternal  brute  forces.  For  if  we  ourselves 
are  things,  not  wills,  then  we  can  know  of  nothing 
spiritual  except  from  ourselves;  all  else  must  be 
things  also.     As  God  and  spirit  and  spiritual  acts  are 


THE  POWER   OF   WILL.  293 

all  taken  from  the  image  of  ourselves,  then,  if  we  are 
things,  we  can  know  nothing  but  things. 

The  whole  outside  spiritual  world  rests  on  the  sure- 
ness  of  our  consciousness  of  a  spirit  in  ourselves,  — 
the  possession  of  a  will.  I  mention  this  merely  to 
show  how  sure  the  fact  is  that  we  have  wills,  —  for 
God  and  a  spiritual  universe  all  rest  upon  that  fact,  — 
and  I  mention  it  also  to  give  a  basis  to  the  exhorta- 
tion I  wish  to  make ;  for  if  we  have  such  a  wonderful 
power,  we  should  believe  in  it,  and  use  it  to  its  full 
extent. 

There  is  this  singularity  in  this  matter;  namely,  that 
though  our  natures  are  made  fret,  yet  if  we  do  not 
believe  that  and  use  their  freedom,  if  we  believe  we 
are  the  creatures  of  circumstances,  we  become  the 
creatures  of  circumstances,  and,  as  much  as  we  can, 
we  become  things;  while  a  full  assurance  that  we  can 
do  much,  that  we  are  made  for  a  wide  sweep  of 
power,  gives  us  the  full  freedom  we  were  born  to. 
It  will  not  do  that  we  are  made  free ;  we  must  also 
believe  the  fact  before  we  can  be  free  practically. 

Of  course  there  is  a  limit  to  the  power  of  will,  and 
only  the  insane  will  attempt  to  go  beyond  obvious 
natural  bounds.  But  while  we  must  know  that,  let  us 
beware  of  contracting  these  bounds  too  closely  around 
us;  while  we  are  in  fact  eagles,  made  to  sweep  the 
great  circles  of  the  air,  let  us  not  confine  ourselves,  like 
the  moth  or  the  butterfly,  to  a  few  feet  of  the  fields. 
No  man  can  certainly  say  where  his  power  stops;    or, 


294  THE  POWER   OF   WILL, 

if  he  knows  where  it  stopped  yesterday,  he  does  not 
know  how  far  it  will  go  to-morrow.  It  is  a  growing 
power,  which  ascends  as  we  use  it.  In  the  ordinary 
concerns  of  life  we  exert  this  power  very  much,  though 
there  are  great  differences  in  this  respect  among  men 
and  ages.  The  will  as  used  in  the  bettering  of  our 
material  state,  that  is,  determined  enterprise,  is  a  ma- 
jestic power  here  in  America,  and  a  mere  petty  power 
in  Spain,  and  still  more  petty  in  the  East,  and  sinks 
down  to  its  weakest  among  the  low  savages. 

But  nowhere  is  the  religious  will  used  as  it  ought 
to  be.  To  be  determined  in  religion,  to  be  industrious 
Christians,  seem  strange  expressions.  Yet  to  be  de- 
termined Christians  is  just  what  we  want,  —  to  set  the 
will  "  like  flint"  against  wrong;  to  make  ''full  proof" 
of  all  the  religious  capacities  of  our  souls;  to  be 
bent  to  exercise  all  Christian  virtues  as  we  exercise 
our  muscles  or  our  business  energies;  to  make  an 
advance  every  day,  as  any  true  worker  advances  in 
his  knowledge,  or  in  his  fortune,  and  says  in  the 
evening,  "  I  have  gained  so  much,  I  have  mastered  so 
much." 

Was  there  ever  in  business  or  war  an  intenser 
expression  of  spiritual  energy  than  when  Paul  said, 
"This  one  thing  I  do"?  He  used  the  whole  scope 
of  his  will.  His  poor  hard-worked  body  solicited  him 
for  some  ease,  for  some  rest,  for  a  little  comfort.  His 
poor  human  heart  sunk  under  discouragements,  shrunk 
from    calumny,   quailed    under   fears.     Did    he    pause? 


THE  POWER   OF   WILL,  295 

'*  This  one  thing  I  do."  He  saw  iniquity  in  the 
church,  Httleness  in  its  leaders,  —  poor,  scattered  re- 
sults, —  an  opposing  world  growing  greater  and  more 
impregnable  before  him;  did  he  halt?  **  This  one 
thing  I  do." 

A  thousand  things  sapped  his  faith;  for  one  ex- 
ample, Christ  did  not  come  from  the  skies  as  he  ex- 
pected, and  that  great  test  of  the  truth  of  all  his  soul 
rested  on  failed  him.  Did  he  sink?  Nay,  his  faith 
enlarged;  he  was  surer  of  God  and  surer  of  Christ 
when  his  expectations  failed  than  even  when  they  were 
realized.  Let  everything  fail,  I  will  believe ;  and  I  will 
believe  in  a  mightier  and  mightier  fashion,  for  when 
this  and  that  give  way  I  will  fall  back  on  the  strength 
of  the  dictates  of  my  soul.  ''  Though  flesh  and  heart 
fail,"  I  will  grow  a  purer,  more  disinterested,  more 
believing,  more  powerful  servant  of  God.  I  will  do 
it  to  the  end.  And  he  did  it,  —  glory  and  honor  to 
him ! 

Myriads  of  creatures  are  born  with  this  divine  will- 
power. Of  course  I  do  not  say  in  the  same  degree 
as  Paul,  but  with  the  same  faculty;  and  they  die  like 
great  embryonic  masses,  undeveloped  souls,  which 
have  never  come  to  anything.  Here  and  there  is  one 
man  who  lives  and  proves  that  he  is  a  being  with  a 
divine  will,  —  proves  it,  too,  all  the  more  powerfully, 
when  circumstances  are  all  against  him. 

These  awful  things,  —  circumstances,  —  whose  power 
is  the  talk  of  this  age,  which  are  so  weighty  that  they 


296  THE  POWER   OF  WILL. 

forbid  religion  and  laugh  at  morality,  —  these  overpower- 
ing circumstances,  which  shrivel  us  up  as  before  a  fire, 
which  will  not  allow  us  to  have  a  soul  within  our 
bosoms,  and  which  we  set  up  openly  with  shameless 
faces  as  our  excuse  before  man,  yes,  and  before  God. 
*'  Circumstances  are  against  us."  And  what  are  these 
circumstances?  They  are  but  a  shadow  wherever  there 
is  present  a  greater  circumstance;  namely,  the  pure, 
unconquerable  will,  which  overrides  them,  which  con- 
verts them,  the  worst  of  them,  and  makes  its  dia- 
monds out  of  all  such  charcoal.  You  are  a  will,  I 
say,  and  hence  you  are,  by  the  very  intention  of  your 
nature,  made  to  dominate,  made  for  triumph  over 
circumstance. 

We  are  ever  losing  our  humanity,  because  to  be 
human  means  to  be  under  the  control  of  righteous 
will.  We  are  the  prey  of  almost  everything  without 
us,  and  of  almost  every  vagrant  passion  within  us. 
We  are  made  to  govern  ourselves  by  the  righteous 
law,  —  not  self-degraded  mortals,  but  pure,  immortal 
wills.  I  speak  this,  not  for  the  purpose  of  pride,  but 
that  we  may  be  instigated  to  reject  every  day  the 
whole  world  of  flesh  and  self,  and  to  accept  whatever 
is  humble,  generous,  and  just,  pure,  and  adoring,  —  to 
do  this  in  our  thoughts  and  in  our  work,  being  as 
God-made  men  in  all  the  details  of  our  living.  It  is 
a  large  and  awful  work;  all  the  more  must  we  push 
it  while  the  day  lasts.  ''  I  will  arise,"  must  be  the 
motto  of  every  moment. 


THE  POWER  OF  WILL.  297 

When  I  think  of  men,  hundreds,  almost  thousands 
of  milHons,  appearing  and  disappearing  every  thirty 
years,  what  a  common,  cheap  creature  man  is !  But 
when  I  think  that  each  of  these  men  has  a  will,  —  is 
made  to  enact  into  existence  all  righteousness,  —  that 
he  is  formed  to  work  together  with  God  in  the  awful, 
universal  conflict  between  good  and  evil,  then  I  stand 
back  before  the  meanest  man,  for  he  makes  the  very 
earth  sacred.  Oh  that  some  power,  some  voice  would 
speak  to  him  and  make  this  grand  possibility  real. 
But  our  wishes  are  worthless  if  a  man  does  not  help 
himself. 

There  are  two  sources  of  power  in  a  man,  —  the 
God-given  will  is  one,  the  God-given  trust  is  another. 
The  mere  will  is  cold  and  cheerless  without  the  trust, 
and  the  trust  is  weak  and  boneless  without  the  will. 
Man  must  add  to  the  power  of  his  own  spirit  the 
power  of  the  spirit  of  God.  It  is  comparatively  easy 
to  be  a  man  of  will  only ;  it  is  comparatively  easy  to 
have  only  the  woman's  pre-eminent  faith  and  trust: 
but  the  duty  is  to  have  both  working  together  in  our 
ordinary  lives;  to  cast  ourselves,  like  the  most  help- 
less children,  upon  the  parent's  breast,  —  to  receive  of 
his  fulness,  and  ''to  quit  us  like  men"  in  the  daily 
strife  of  temptation  and  effort.  If  we  do  all  well  that 
is  within  our  will,  heavenly  glimpses  open,  lights  and 
powers  stream  in,  and  the  spontaneous  life  of  the  soul 
grows.  Then  "  be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt " 
must  have  this  other  sentence  added,  '*  All  things  are 


298  THE  POWER   OF   WILL. 

possible  to  him  that  trusteth."  Rest  on  your  soul  as 
if  there  were  no  other  power  in  heaven  or  earth;  but 
your  soul  must  rest  on  God  as  if  there  were  no  such 
thing  known  as  will,  and  "  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not 
prevail  against  you." 


XXX. 

THE  WISDOM    OF   GOD. 

To  the  ifite7it  that  now  unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in 
heavenly  places  7night  be  known  by  the  church  the  fnanifold 
wisdom  of  God.  —  Eph.  iii.  lo. 

'^  I  "HE  apostle,  having  been  speaking  of  the  myste- 
-■-  rious  but  wise  method  of  Divine  Providence  in 
the  rejection  of  the  Jews  and  acceptance  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, now  states  that  this  and  of  course  all  similar 
instances  are  intended  to  instruct  other  portions  of  his 
universe.  I  say,  this  and  of  course  all  similar  in- 
stances ;  for  if  so  small  a  thing  as  this  mystery  was, 
comparatively,  was  intended  to  spread  aloft  to  the  high 
angels  of  God,  we  cannot  think  that  the  deeper  and 
more  significant  facts  are  to  be  kept  private  here  to 
man. 

This  diffusion  of  moral  knowledge  from  the  earth 
through  the  heavens  is  often  stated  by  Christians  as 
a  probable  thing ;  but  I  am  surprised  that  that  which 
is  here  made  clear  and  certain  should  be  spoken  of  at 
all  as  probable.  There  could  be  no  expression  of  a 
truth  more  explicit.  Apart  from  this  direct  assur- 
ance, however,  the  same  thing  might  have  been  sup- 


300  THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD. 

posed,  had  we  never  been  told  it,  from  what  we  see 
in  Nature. 

God  everywhere  in  Nature  is  economical  of  his 
means,  and  has  everywhere  established  such  connec- 
tions between  his  works  that  every  portion  may  be 
and  is  used  in  some  way  for  the  benefit  of  some  or 
all  other.  Indeed,  in  the  whole  of  creation,  so  far  as 
we  know,  there  is  not  one  atom  made  independent, 
or  put  out  of  sympathy  —  if  I  may  so  speak  —  with  the 
mass.  Every  part  of  our  earth,  for  example,  is  united 
with  every  other  part.  There  is  a  constant  interchange 
of  physical  influences  through  every  part  of  it. 

It  is  so  also  with  its  social  and  moral  influences. 
There  can  be  no  eminent  example  of  good  or  evil  in 
the  condition  of  one  nation  that  is  not  influential  all 
round  the  globe  directly  or  indirectly.  So  far  at  least 
as  this  region  of  God's  works  is  concerned,  he  has 
designed  a  close  society,  and  works  out  his  mightiest 
eff"ects  through  the  power  of  one  part  on  another. 
This  great  principle  operates  not  merely  between  what 
is  contemporaneous,  but  also  between  the  past  and  the 
future. 

As  objects  and  men  the  most  distant  in  place  may 
operate  on  each  other  to-day,  so  as  to  what  is  most 
distant  in  time.  The  action  and  events  of  all  past 
history  concentrate  their  influence  in  the  present.  This 
is  undeniable.  It  is  also  undeniable  that,  so  far  as 
advance  or  improvement  is  made,  there  is  a  tendency 
to  perfect  the   social   character   of  this   system.     The 


THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD.  301 

parts  of  the  earth's  surface  are  brought  nearer  to- 
gether; the  interchange  of  interest  and  influence  be- 
tween all  races  and  tribes  becomes  fuller  and  more 
effective.  So,  also,  as  nations  advance,  the  power  of 
the  present  over  the  future  becomes  greater  of  course. 
Just  in  proportion  as  a  tribe  of  men  are  sunk  in  bar- 
barism are  they  bereft  of  a  history,  of  a  past,  and  its 
power;  and  just  as  a  people  advance  in  all  that  is 
heroic  and  excellent  in  one  era,  that  people  become 
powerful  over  another. 

The  clear  tendency,  then,  as  men  advance,  is  to  per- 
fect the  great  design  of  God  in  constituting  them  social, 
to  complete  the  family  idea  which  God  had  in  view, 
to  bind  together  most  closely  every  part  of  the  race 
through  all  time,  in  all  places.  This,  I  say,  seems  the 
undeniable  design,  so  far  as  this  earth  is  concerned. 

But  does  this  design  extend  any  farther?  Is  not  this 
globe  and  every  globe  —  however  clearly  a  social  de- 
sign is  shown  within  it — cut  off  from  any  such  rela- 
tions without  it?  Does  not  the  very  fact  that  worlds 
are  scattered  at  such  immense  distances  through  space 
evince  not  a  social  but  a  dissocial  purpose?  I  confess 
that  at  first  it  looks  so.  But  if  it  is  so,  it  is  stranee, 
for  God  usually  maintains  a  wonderful  analogy,  or  like- 
ness, between  all  his  works.  Everything  he  does,  while 
it  is  different,  is  the  same.  He  never  repeats  himself, 
and  yet  is  never  unlike  himself  And  as  the  social 
principle  seems  to  be  one  of  the  very  deepest  and  most 
cherished  of  the  divine   ideas,  —  if  I  may  so   express 


302  THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD. 

it,  —  would   it  not  be  wonderful  that  it  should  be    so 
completely  deserted  and  given  up? 

The  probabilities  then  are  evidently  against  that 
opinion.  The  probabilities  then  are  strong,  I  think, 
even  if  we  were  confined  in  facts  to  this  globe,  —  even 
if  we  had  no  instances  of  union  between  this  globe  and 
other  worlds.  But  in  fact  we  have  some  grand  particu- 
lars which  assure  us  that  the  social  idea  is  not  deserted, 
but  runs  between  world  and  world.  No  star  has  ever 
been  discovered,  not  even  the  wildest  of  the  comets, 
which  moved  alone.  The  worlds  are  all  made  up  into 
splendid  groups  or  families,  each  influencing  each,  act- 
ing in  its  measure  on  every  point,  even  from  this  low 
point  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  flaming  space.  The 
whole  incomprehensible,  sublime  pageant  of  the  heavens 
moves  and  acts  together. 

It  is  certain,  it  is  known,  that  as  respects  material 
forces  the  whole  universe  interacts ;  nay,  the  mightiest 
of  all  material  forces  (perhaps  the  one  which  in- 
cludes all  others)  is  employed  and  spent  in  interaction. 
Now,  if  this  be  so  with  material  forces,  is  it  probable 
that  moral  forces,  influences,  of  which  the  powers  of 
matter  are  but  as  the  shadows  and  symbols,  —  moral 
forces,  which  we  see  so  constantly  and  wonderfully  at 
work  between  man  and  man,  and  nation  and  nation, 
and  age  and  age,  should  be  confined  and  ironed  in  to 
this  earth? 

I  suppose,  of  course,  you  observe  that  there  are 
other  races  of  spirits,  not  necessarily  inhabitants  of  these 


THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD.  303 

visible  worlds,  though  of  that  the  probabilities  are  re- 
sistless to  my  mind  ;  but  whether  embodied  in  these  shin- 
ing mansions  or  as  purer  spirits,  other  races  of  spirits 
the  Bible  everywhere  assumes  or  states.  As  to  these, 
then,  can  we  think  the  great  law  of  the  family,  which 
in  lower  nature  we  see  penetrates  everywhere  and  con- 
trols everything,  —  that  this  in  the  higher  nature,  among 
the  spiritual  tribes,  is  hemmed  in  to  each,  and  no  race 
and  no  moral  history  of  one  globe  ever  allowed  to 
act  on  another?  I  know  not  how  it  may  strike  your 
minds,  but  to  me  to  state  it  seems  enough.  Is  the 
grandeur  of  God's  spiritual  house  to  stand  so  dwindled 
by  the  side  of  his  material  house?  Or,  if  the  theory 
of  the  spiritual  universe  allows  it  to  be  progressive 
(and  who  now  denies  that?),  what  progression,  except 
one  comparatively  mean,  can  be  effected,  according 
to  God's  ordinary  way  of  working,  but  by  the  wide 
interaction  of  various  beings  and  various  experiences, 
each  different  in  character  and  history,  but  each  alike, 
and  each  reflecting  some  new  and  startling  depth  of 
the  central  truths  of  God? 

As  it  is  justly  supposed  that  the  tribes  of  men  lower 
in  the  scale  are  always  lifted  —  if  lifted  at  all — from 
without,  that  the  higher  life  or  higher  ideas  possessed 
by  one  part  of  the  family  are  held  in  stewardship  for 
others,  so  I  suppose  that  not  only  races  inferior  to 
man,  but  orders  of  creatures  higher  by  nature  though 
less  deeply  experienced  than  man,  shall  receive  from 
his  history  lifting  conceptions,  such  a  new  element  of 


304  THE    WISDOM   OF  GOD. 

angelic  civilization  as  shall  transform  the  whole.  Now, 
how  grandly  intoned  with  this  comes  in  the  decided  and 
sublime  statement  of  Paul,  —  '*  To  the  intent  that  now 
unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly  places 
might  be  known  by  the  church  the  manifold  wisdom  of 
God  "  !  "  To  the  intent;  "  as  if  God's  schemes  here  had 
not  only  some  bearings  beyond,  but  had  their  chief 
reference  away  high  up  there  among  the  ''  principalities 
and  powers."  If  this  be  true,  I  regard  it  as  a  very  great 
truth  indeed. 

See,  first,  the  light  it  casts  upon  that  moral  scheme 
of  the  world  of  which  Christianity  is  the  development 
and  consummation.  In  view  of  the  extensiveness  of 
the  creation  and  the  littleness  of  man,  there  is,  at  least 
to  many  of  us,  an  unfit  look  in  the  importance  the 
Bible  gives  to  man  in  that  wonderful  story  of  the  de- 
scent of  the  Son  of  God  for  the  redemption  of  man 
through  his  life  and  death.  Of  old  there  was  a  mighty 
feeling  of  wonder  that  God  in  his  daily  providence 
should  seem  so  intent  on  man.  ''  When  I  consider  thy 
heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the 
stars  which  thou  hast  ordained,  what  is  man  that  thou 
art  mindful  of  him?  " 

But  the  later  events  of  the  gospel  —  if  this  feeling 
were  just  at  all  —  ought  to  carry  it  to  a  blank  amaze- 
ment. But  all  is  nobly  explained  when  we  learn  that 
this  earth  is  made  but  as  a  stage  around  which  all 
the  creatures  of  the  heavens,  whatever  they  be,  may 
gather  as  spectators  of  the   exhibition  of   God    made 


THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD.  305 

there,  —  gather  around  it  now,  and  when  this  material 
earth  and  heavens  have  passed  away,  the  history  it 
leaves  shall  take  its  place  in  the  very  centre  of  heavenly 
interest,  —  the  divinest  leaf  in  the  history  of  God  and 
the  creature.  *'  And  the  temple  of  God  was  opened 
in  heaven,  and  there  was  seen  in  his  temple  the  ark  of 
his  testament:  and  there  were  lightnings,  and  voices, 
and  thunderings,  and  an  earthquake,  and  great  hail." 

Again :  if  this  history  of  God  on  earth  has  a  uni- 
versal instructiveness  in  it  as  a  lesson  of  races,  spread- 
ing through  all  spaces,  we  must  believe  that  its  stretch 
in  time  is  of  equal  largeness.  If  God  slowly  works 
out  his  mysteries  through  long  dispensations,  even 
when  they  concern  but  the  private  affairs  of  one  race 
and  one  earth,  what  times  ought  we  to  expect  him  to 
employ  when  he  is  working  out  the  moral  history  in 
which  Christ  appears,  —  where  the  deepest  dark  and 
the  highest  light  are  revealed  together ;  where  the  his- 
tory and  nature  of  good  and  evil,  of  God  and  the 
creature,  is  unclosing  for  the  behoof  of  all  places  and 
times?  Whenever,  then,  I  see  something  of  awful 
darkness  before  which  I  must  bow  down,  I  remember 
the  eternity  of  God,  and  the  wide,  long  sweep  of  his 
work;  I  remember  that  a  thousand  years  in  his  sight 
are  but  as  yesterday;  seeing  that  is  past  as  a  watch 
in  the  night. 

But  not  only  do  the  width  and  length  of  the  moral 
scheme  of  the  world  lighten  its  mysteries,  there  is  given 
also  in  that  a  particular  dignity  to  the  truth  in  Christ. 


3o6  THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD. 

The  apostle  calls  it  ''the  manifold  wisdom  of  God;" 
the  many-folded  —  the  all-various  —  the  wisdom  which 
is  the  plena  or  pleroma,  the  fulness  of  all  aspects  of 
the  divine.  This  is  that  divine  system,  so  neglected, 
which  shallow,  vain  man  so  often  glances  at  only  to 
despise.  But  it  is  not  Paul's  eulogy  of  the  truth  which 
so  much  describes  its  grandeur,  as  the  fact  he  speaks 
of,  that  this  manifold  wisdom  was  of  so  wide  signifi- 
cance that  it  was  to  be  diffused  up,  even  to  the 
"  principalities  and  powers "  for  their  learning. 

I  cannot  say,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say,  how  all  the 
truths  of  our  Christianity  may  be  useful  everywhere; 
but  I  think  it  might  be  shown  that  there  could  be  no 
conceivable  height  of  finite  spirits  to  whom  most  of  its 
truths  would  not  be  new  and  impressive.  For  example : 
that  one  lesson  of  God  first  seen  in  weakness ;  what  a 
new  conception  of  God  !  —  a  conception  not  only  valu- 
able to  correct  our  ideal  of  the  truly  great,  but  most 
needed,  I  may  venture  to  think,  to  guard  the  ideal  of 
those  resplendent  creatures  who  though  innocent  are 
exposed,  without  some  such  revelation,  —  exposed,  if 
to  anything,  to  false  ideas  of  elevation.  For  how 
could  they  in  the  deepest  manner  be  taught  the  truest 
style  of  divinity,  so  long  as  they  knew  the  highest  only 
as  the  "blessed  and  only  potentate;"  so  long  as  the 
sight  of  the  highest  humbling  itself  to  suffering  and 
emptying  itself  out  of  love,  —  so  long  as  that  sight, 
which  I  suppose  to  reveal  the  deepest  deep  of  God, 
was  kept  back  from  them? 


THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD.  307 

But,  just  glancing  at  the  dignity  which  this  fact  gives 
to  truth,  I  must  go  on,  that  I  may  pause  a  moment 
upon  the  dignity  it  gives  to  man  and  all  that  concerns 
him.  This  his  home  is  now  no  distant  and  all  but  for- 
gotten spot,  but  a  central  region,  it  seems,  a  chosen 
spot  of  revelation.  Man  perishing  before  the  moth  is 
an  actor  where  God  and  angels  are  the  spectators,  and 
is  working  out  every  day  not  merely  his  own  imperish- 
able lot,  but  is  working  out  matter  for  the  instruction, 
for  the  cheer  or  the  sorrow,  of  regions  where  other 
suns  shine,  and  of  ages  which  shall  come  on  after  our 
ages  have  passed.  Under  this  body,  under  this  form 
of  heart  and  mind  which  belongs  to  me,  the  inexpres- 
sible Word  of  God  did  its  inexpressible  work ;  so  that 
there  shall  go  with  us  —  whether  we  sink  or  rise  —  per- 
haps an  altogether  peculiar  interest,  unknown  to  the 
highest  creatures,  gathered  from  our  mysterious  fellow- 
ship with  the  only-begotten  of  God. 

''  Upon  these  creatures,"  will  they  say,  —  '*  upon 
them,  by  them,  and  through  themi  was  made  an  exhi- 
bition of  the  divine  nature,  which,  as  by  a  new  illumi- 
nation, has  relit  every  scene  of  creation  and  the  vision 
of  every  spirit.     Lo  !    this  is  man  !  " 

So  associated  then  with  the  Lamb  of  God,  carry- 
ing in  our  commonest  acts  and  days  such  a  weight 
of  results,  — 

"  So,  and  not  searching  higher,  we  may  learn 
To  prize  the  breath  we  share  with  humankind, 
And  look  even  upon  the  dust  of  man  with  awe." 


308  THE    WISDOM  OF  GOD. 

We  may  learn,  being  ^'  compassed  about  with  so  great 
a  cloud  of  witnesses,"  to  awake  to  our  calling:  in  trial 
to  run  with  patience  the  wonderful  race  that  is  set 
before  us,  to  fill  our  hearts  with  these  high  incite- 
ments, each  man  living  as  if  upon  him,  even  such  an 
one,  all  the  holy  and  wise  faces  were  turned;  as  if 
upon  him  lay  the  illustration  of  all  God's  scheme,  of 
all  Christ's  love,  —  as  if  upon  him.  Did  I  say  *'  as  if"  ? 
Upon  him  it  is  laid,  that  now  "  unto  the  principalities 
might  be  known  "  by  him,  here,  to-day,  under  these 
ordinary  risings  and  settings  of  the  sun,  here,  under 
these  familiar,  homely  names,  places,  and  acts,  —  by 
him  might  be  known,  by  his  Christ-likeness,  by  his 
showing  in  himself  the  whole  fruits  and  glory  of  the 
Redeemer  and  the  redemption,  —  might  be  known  by 
him,  in  the  few  days  which  run  before  they  carry  his 
body  to  the  dust,  —  might  be  made  known  by  him 
new  secrets,  even  to  the  ''  principalities  and  powers,"  — 
new  secrets  of  the  great  deep  of  the  manifold  wisdom 
of  God. 


XXXI. 

THE   RIVER   OF   LIFE. 

There  is  a  river  the  stremns  whereof  shall  7nake  glad  the  city 
of  God.  —  Ps.  xlvi.  4. 

'  I  ^HE  greatest  possible  gift  to  the  world  would  be 
^  the  gift  of  a  nobler  and  better  soul  in  the  bosom 
of  each  man.  That  soul  includes  everything.  For  the 
civilized  soul  would  make  of  course  the  civilized  society, 
the  civilized  government:  the  quickened  and  elevated 
heart  alone  can  put  all  the  faculties  of  man,  all  arts, 
all  works,  into  the  highest  action,  with  the  highest  aims, 
and  turn  man's  consciousness,  his  life,  his  society,  his 
earth,  from  a  weak,  impure,  and  unhappy  state,  into  a 
state  where  there  is  power  for  feebleness,  purity  for 
corruption,  peace  for  disturbance,  and  so  convert  earth 
into  the  highest  conception  of  heaven.  All  out  of  the 
heart !  As  the  heart  is,  everything  is :  if  the  heart  be 
a  thistle-seed,  its  whole  world  will  be  a  sproutage  of 
thistle ;  if  it  be  "  wholly  a  right  seed,"  it  will  spring  up 
into  a  world  of  fruit.  Our  need  then  is  more  soul,  more 
light  and  life  of  the  heart. 

What  an  announcement  then  is  the  text,  ''  There  is  a 
river  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad  the  city  oi 


310  THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE. 

God."  There  is  a  descending  flood  of  renovation ! 
There  is  a  spirit !  If  the  wishes  of  the  heart  could 
create  a  belief,  it  would  be  bliss,  for  this  is  at  once  the 
most  rational,  poetical,  pure,  and  desirable  belief  possi- 
ble to  man.  So  we  find  that  wherever  man  is  pure  and 
high,  an  era  of  descending  spirit  is  always  looked  for- 
ward to.  The  Lord  himself  about  to  leave  the  earth  in 
darkness  and  after  a  life  which  seemed  a  failure,  —  shall 
I  say?  —  announced  the  coming  and  the  reign  of  spirit 
on  earth.  And  to  make  the  fact  sensible  to  the  eye  and 
ear,  as  Christians  believe,  see,  hear,  the  rushing  of  a 
m'ighty  wind,  *'  the  house  shaken  where  they  were 
sitting,"  the  tongues  like  as  of  fire,  the  little  congrega- 
tion rushing  forth  and  bursting  into  a  various  language, 
each  man  of  the  assembled  strangers  speaking  in  his 
own  speech  the  wonderful  works  of  God.  See  and 
hear  the  joy,  the  excitement,  the  men  almost  aban- 
doned and  reckless  in  a  divine  delirium;  if  not  ''  drunk 
with  new  wine,"  filled  indeed  with  a  new  and  better 
wine  from  the  grapes  of  God ! 

That  something  mighty  had  taken  place  was  attested, 
how?  By  new  souls;  by  the  fact  that  something  had 
made  the  Christians  into  powers.  Read  the  letters  of 
Peter  and  Paul,  and  you  will  see  that  a  new  race, 
gigantic,  incredible,  has  been  on  the  earth.  And  then, 
their  joy.  We  view  the  early  Christians  all  on  one  side, 
as  sufferers.  But  on  the  other  side,  there  never  was 
such  a  period  of  joy.  The  footsteps  of  Astraea  seemed 
to  be  returning  to  the  world,  heaven  coming  back  to 


THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE.  3 1 1 

earth.  "  I  will  send  the  Comforter  unto  you ;  "  and  he 
was  indeed  sent.  Was  ever  a  promise  so  rapidly  and 
amply  fulfilled?  Their  joy  was  full.  They  had  ''with 
persecutions  "  a  hundred-fold  of  everything  good.  They 
reaped  the  two  great  beatitudes :  meek,  they  possessed 
the  earth ;   pure  in  heart,  they  saw  God  ! 

Christians  believe  all  this.  It  is  their  belief  also  that 
this  but  introduced  an  era  of  spirit.  That  first  great 
moment  is  gone  like  a  splendid  dream.  But  it  is  not  to 
be  regarded  as  an  anomaly,  appearing  once,  like  the 
sense  of  beauty  in  Greece,  and  to  reappear  no  more. 
It  has  prepared  the  way  for  new  wonders.  It  has 
pushed  far  forward  the  possibilities  of  man,  has  erected 
standards  which  will  never  be  taken  down,  and  has  left 
in  the  world  a  church,  dwelling  to  be  sure  in  a  long 
twilight  of  spirit,  but  awaiting  another  burst  of  day. 
Such  is  God's  way.  His  truth  advances  by  bursts  of 
splendor,  and  then  by  long  ages  in  which  the  light  is 
worked  into  the  general  life. 

But  whatever  wonders  await  us,  one  thing  we  know : 
The  spirit  never  will,  never  does  reappear,  unless  it  is 
waited  for,  and  asked  for  by  some  pure  spiritual  faith  in 
us.  There  is  one  sure  law,  that  only  ''  to  him  that  hath 
shall  be  given."  God  waits  for  man  to  feel  need.  A 
certain  degree  of  the  very  gift  looked  for  must  first 
exist.  When  man  rises  a  suppliant  towards  the  heavens, 
the  heavens  will  descend  towards  him,  and  not  until 
then. 

Now,  as  to  this  need  and  faith  the  future  seems  dark. 


312  THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  faithlessness  of  the  worldly  soul, 
has  come  in  the  growing  belief  in  matter  not  in  spirit, 
in  law  and  not  in  a  person ;  so  that  faith  which  I  should 
define  to  be  trust  in  the  moral  soul  of  the  universe,  that 
is,  a  person,  that  is,  God,  —  this  seems  dying  out  of  the 
soul.  But  there  is  hope.  I  believe,  though  I  cannot 
now  explain,  that  the  empire  of  natural  law  which 
science  is  now  unfolding  is  the  precursor,  the  condition, 
the  instigation,  and  the  mould,  of  such  an  appearance 
of  spirit,  of  such  an  empire  of  God,  as  has  never  been 
dreamed  of  But  this  we  who  are  now  alive  will  not 
see.  That  vast  Pentecost  is  reserved  until  after  a  long 
process  is  through,  when  that  which  hinders  shall  be 
taken  out  of  the  way.  Meanwhile  each  of  us,  for  him- 
self, can,  at  least  in  a  measure,  free  himself  from  the 
material  and  worldly  spirit  of  the  age  and  of  his  own 
heart ;  each  one  may  live  with  God,  and  walk  with  him, 
and  be  surrounded  by  all  the  powers  of  the  world  to 
come. 

This  subject  is  suggested  by  the  breaking  forth  of  the 
spring,  when  Nature  stands  up  created  once  more,  and 
the  spirit  is  presented  so  near  to  us.  I  would  like  to 
see  the  feast  of  Whitsunday  placed  on  one  of  the  first 
and  most  magnificent  days  of  the  spring,  when  every 
eye  can  see  the  same  spirit  at  work  in  Nature  on  the 
grandest  scale.  Or,  next  to  that,  I  would  place  it  after 
some  great  summer  drought,  when  the  heavens  are 
opened  and  the  rains  descend  and  the  change  in  Nature 
is  such  as  in  one  of  the  Pampas  after  a  South  American 


THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE.  313 

rain,  —  odors,  grasses,  flowers,  and  gay  insects,  new  life 
in  the  eye  of  man,  and  freshness  and  joy  among  the 
herds  of  the  field.  After  a  great  drought  or  winter 
Nature  is  a  picture  unrolled  from  the  east  to  the  west, 
symbolizing  all  the  renewal  of  God,  symbolizing  the 
renewal  of  human  body  and  spirit  yet  to  come,  and 
especially  symbolizing  that  final  spring,  when  *'  Behold, 
I  create  all  things  new,"  shall  be  pronounced,  and  all 
the  creation  of  God  shall  say,  "  Amen,  even  so,  Lord 
God  Almighty ;  "  and  the  old  creation  with  all  its  shapes 
of  sin  and  grief  shall  pass  away,  and  ''  be  no  more 
remembered,  nor  come  again  into  mind." 

Let  us  pause  a  moment  before  this  scene  of  spirit ! 
Surely  God  is  in  the  earth,  though  we  know  it  not. 
But  some  may  say  it  is  only  motion,  heat,  light,  or 
subtler  forces,  poured  through  the  infinite  moulds  of 
the  world,  —  that  is  all.  Away  with  such  words.  What 
and  whence  these  beneficent  agents  we  call  motion, 
heat,  and  light;  whence  these  infinite  moulds  of  wisdom 
and  love  and  beauty;  whence  the  transmutation  of 
motion  and  heat  up  into  conscious  life?  Wake  up  and 
see  this  great  sight  of  the  presence  of  God.  Walk 
around,  mark,  adore.  The  awful  Beneficence  is  at 
work.  In  the  presence  of  the  Everlasting  God  from 
whom  I  come,  to  whom  I  go,  be  still,  my  selfish  heart ; 
be  still,  my  selfish  cares;  turn,  my  poor  conceited  soul, 
all  into  reverence  and  worship.  In  this  presence  I  feel 
my  impurity;  I  confess  and  cleanse  myself  from  in- 
iquity     A  mercy  like  the  mercy  of  Christ  seems  spread 


314  THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE. 

all  through  Nature,  a  redeeming  tenderness.  I  remem- 
ber the  gospel  pity  and  the  gospel  hopes  with  new  as- 
surance, and  I  believe  that  God  will  forgive  us  our  sins, 
and  as  he  has  brought  Nature  from  winter,  will  bring  us 
up  also,  and  all  those  who  sleep  in  him ! 

"  Sin-blighted  though  we  are, 
We  too,  the  reasoning  sons  of  men, 
From  our  oblivion,  winter,  called 
Shall  rise,  and  breathe  again ; 
And  in  eternal  summer  lose 
Our  threescore  years  and  ten." 

The  spirit  in  Nature  at  this  moment  is  not  only  a 
picture  of  the  final  conquests  of  spirit,  but  of  that  joy- 
ful conquest  which  is  found  in  the  life  of  every  good 
man,  even  in  his  homely  days  now  and  here.  The 
usual  history  of  the  spirit  in  the  heart  is  a  history  of 
struggle ;  the  spirit  is  usually  with  us  in  the  form  of  the 
angel  with  whom  Jacob  wrestled  at  midnight.  God 
does  not  work  as  we  would ;  but  if  a  man  is  faithful 
to  his  light,  he  will  make  a  spring  out  of  the  cold  and 
dark  days  of  the  winter,  and  he  will  come  into  a  time 
of  conquest  and  peace. 

And  if  we  really  understand  the  matter,  we  would 
make  this  conquest  and  peace  and  springtime  perpetual. 
But  we  must  make  a  reality  of  the  spirit.  To  many,  the 
doctrine  of  the  spirit  seems  a  foreign  and  unnatural  thing, 
a  fanatical  doctrine.  Why  should  we  not  be  interested 
in  our  God?  In  the  beautiful  mythology  of  the  Greeks, 
their  gods  peeped  out  from  behind  the  trees,  from  the 
floods,  and  glimpses  of  them  were  seen  on  the  hill-tops, 


THE  RIVER   OF  LIFE.  315 

and  life  was  full  of  gods;  and  where  they  were  not 
present  themselves,  they  crowded  their  cities  with 
images  of  them ;  and  lest  any  should  be  omitted,  they 
erected  in  one  place  an  altar  to  the  unknown  God ! 
They  loved  and  delighted  in  their  poor  gods.  We 
have  a  God,  we  have  a  spirit,  yet  many  of  us  are 
ashamed  of  the  unspeakable  dignity  of  knowing  him,  — 
of  walking  in  his  presence  with  awe  and  love  and  con- 
fession. That  spirit  has  made  and  fashioned  me,  and 
not  made  me  a  beast  but  a  man,  and  through  it  I  live ; 
it  is  in  me  and  around  me  in  benefits  and  mercies,  and 
it  promises  forgiveness  and  life  and  higher  power  when 
I  sink  into  the  grave;  it  is  over  all.  Shall  we  not 
rejoice  in  it,  and  open  our  arms  wide  to  it,  and  live  in 
it  and  walk  in  it?  *'  There  is  a  river  the  streams  whereof 
shall  make  glad  the  city  of  God." 


XXXII. 

WORLDLINESS. 

They  are  of  the  world.  —  i  John  iv.  5. 

THIS  is  said,  not  contemptuously,  but  despairingly. 
Your  natural  impression  will  be  that  I  am  to 
speak  against  the  world;  but  that  is  not  the  case.  I 
cannot  speak  against  the  Creator  or  his  world ;  I  cannot 
speak  against  any  part  of  the  nature  he  has  given  us, 
even  if  it  has  been  injured  by  sin  or  criminal  excess. 
It  is  not  wrong,  but  right,  that  a  man  should  be  what  he 
was  born  to  be,  —  a  creature  of  this  world,  fully  living 
in  it,  making  much  of  it.  The  time  was  when  the  world 
was  thought,  and  it  is  now  thought  by  many,  a  horrible 
place,  to  which  the  spirit  was  banished  for  the  sake  of 
whipping  it  into  virtue,  —  a  magical  garden  whose  beau- 
ties we  must  not  enjoy  because  the  Devil  is  behind  them, 
and  into  which  we  are  brought  that  we  may  say  No  to 
everything  it  contains. 

But  we  are  learning  lately  that  the  world  is  a  great, 
God-given  establishment,  not  to  pass  away  in  a  moment 
by  any  means,  full  of  God's  riches ;  and  that  to  improve 
it,  to  weed  out  of  society  and  Nature  everything  which 
is  against  man,  to  make  this  a  place  sound  and  healthy  to 


WORLDLINESS.  31/ 

the  bodies  and  souls  of  all  its  children,  even  the  poorest, 
for  generations  to  come,  to  be  a  man  of  this  world, 
with  these  views,  living  in  it  intelligently,  beneficently, 
enjoyingly,  —  this  we  must  not  call  worldly,  but  rather 
heavenly.  The  unworldly,  ghastly  man  who  denies  all 
this  is  spurious,  not  a  real  man,  —  a  singular  growth  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  his  very  pictures  hateful  to  the  eye ; 
and  if  we  had  not  pity  and  even  reverence  for  the 
mistaken,  sincere,  and  often  noble  soul,  we  would  shut 
the  door  upon  him,  burying  him  and  his  history  in  the 
grave  where  he  belongs. 

But  let  me  come  into  some  detail  of  this  thought. 
First,  I  do  not  call  worldly  a  love  of  the  beautiful  in  any 
of  its  forms.  A  sense  of  the  beautiful,  a  desire  for  the 
creation  of  it,  is  a  part  of  our  '*  image  of  God,"  our 
soul's  likeness  to  him  who  "  made  everything  beautiful 
in  his  time."  Poetry  is  not  a  vimcm  dceinoimm;  paint- 
ing and  sculpture  and  architecture  are  not  idolatries. 
These  are  not  worldly.  Nor  do  I  call  beautiful  houses, 
furniture,  equipage,  worldly,  where  they  are  not  the 
expression  of  mere  vulgar  ambition  and  vulgar  waste. 
Where  they  modestly  correspond  to  the  situation,  they 
are  the  fit  surroundings  of  a  being  who,  though  he  has 
sinned,  is  still  a  natural  prince  at  the  head  of  a  beautiful 
and  princely  creation,  to  whom  a  monkish  squalor  is  a 
disgrace  and  indeed  a  sort  of  spiritual  insanity. 

Nor  is  taste,  even  when  spent  in  adorning  the  per- 
son in  beautiful  dress,  unworthy.  The  young  maiden 
adorns  herself  instinctively;   and  when  this  is  done  with 


3 1 8  WORLDLINESS. 

modesty  and  moderation,  who  shall  tell  her  Nay?  You 
will  remind  me  of  Saint  Peter:  "  Whose  adorning  let  it 
not  be  that  outward  adorning  of  plaiting  the  hair,  and 
of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of  putting  on  of  apparel ;  but  let 
it  be  .  .  .  that  which  is  not  corruptible,  even  the  orna- 
ment of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is  in  the  sight 
of  God  of  great  price.  For  after  this  manner  in  the 
old  time  the  holy  women  also,  who  trusted  in  God, 
adorned  themselves." 

But  he  speaks  of  *'  holy  women,"  while  I  am  speaking 
of  all  people.  Moreover,  the  spirit  of  this  passage  is, 
'*  Whose  adorning  let  it  not  be  so  much  that  outward 
as  this  inward  adorning,"  just  as  any  sober  person  would 
now  say,  where  he  saw  an  excessive  vanity  of  ornament. 
Such  a  passage,  taken  strictly,  is  one  of  asceticism,  and 
would  reduce  men  in  their  habits  to  monks,  and  every 
woman  to  a  nun,  and  is  not  at  all  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  Him  who  came  eating  and  drinking,  and  who 
said,  *'  Consider  the  lilies  how  they  grow:  they  toil  not, 
they  spin  not;  and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  Solomon  in 
all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these."  He 
who  with  his  own  hands  painted  the  wings  and  crest  of 
the  bird,  who  curves  and  sculptures  every  wave  cast 
upon  the  shore;  he  who  made  the  beautiful  human 
form  and  that  most  exquisite  work,  a  human  counte- 
nance ;  he  who  can  do  nothing  that  is  ugly,  any  more 
than  he  can  do  anything  that  is  foolish,  —  shall  we  slander 
him  by  deforming  and  disgracing  the  body,  the  high 
temple  of  the  Spirit? 


WORLDLINESS.  3 1 9 

But  when  the  splendors  of  my  house  or  my  dress  are 
*  the  ends  of  my  being ;  when  I  devote  work  and  money 
and  thought  to  the  coverings  of  a  perishing  body,  and 
do  nothing  for  the  imperishable  heart;  when  everything 
is  done  for  the  eye  of  man,  and  nothing  for  the  eye  of 
God,  —  nay,  when  every  beauty  and  ornament,  through 
my  vanity  or  envy,  discolors  and  makes  ugly  something 
inside  of  me ;  when  show  destroys  substance,  and  the 
flash  on  the  surface  withers  the  heart;  when  love  of 
beauty  is  really  nothing,  and  inflation  of  self  is  every- 
thing,—  then  comes  in  the  solemn  charge  of  Saint  Peter. 

It  is  a  shame  when  a  man  or  a  society  grows  so  fine 
outside,  and  so  little  and  disgraceful  within !  The  Devil 
has  issued  a  great  order,  —  "  Seem  to  be,  and  be  not," 
—  and  the  world  is  obeying  it.  When  we  pass  through 
the  streets  of  palaces  in  a  great  city,  and  far  more  when 
we  see  a  dignified-looking  man  or  a  beautiful  woman, 
the  natural  feeling  is.  What  noble  persons  must  live  in 
these  fine  temples !  And  when  we  find  they  are  the 
reverse  of  noble,  that  their  fine  houses  or  beautiful 
persons  have  nobody  inside,  or  worse,  then  again  we 
hear  Saint  Peter:  ''Whose  adorning  let  it  not  be  that 
outward  adorning;  .  .  .  but  let  it  be  the  hidden  man 
of  the  heart." 

Nor  do  I  call  a  handsome  way  of  living,  or  the  amuse- 
ments of  life,  worldly.  The  full  enjoyment  of  the  world 
and  all  it  furnishes  is  ours.  God  *'  giveth  us  richly  all 
things  to  enjoy."  Take  notice  that  the  generous-minded 
apostle  who  said  this  was  himself  not  a  luxurious  man : 


320  WORLDLINESS. 

for  Christ's  sake  he  chose  to  strip  himself  of  all ;  but  not 
for  all  that  did  he  proclaim  asceticism  as  the  law  of  life. 

As  to  amusements  especially,  let  me  pause  a  moment 
upon  them.  The  play  of  human  nature  is  as  much 
needed  as  its  work.  From  innocent  diversions  the 
heart  comes  back  with  new  delight  to  its  higher  objects. 
A  lower  joy,  if  it  is  used  with  moderation,  does  not 
destroy  a  higher  joy,  but  creates  a  new  satisfaction  in  it. 
We  are  made  for  variety.  Besides,  we  who  live  in  the 
house  of  a  divine  Father  ought  to  know  that  pleasure 
in  itself  is  right.  I  am  not  bound  to  show  that  amuse- 
ments improve  even  my  health.  If  I  enjoy  them,  as  a 
bird  enjoys  its  flight,  that  is  enough,  so  I  transgress  no 
law.  But  add  to  this  that  a  certain  amount  of  pleasura- 
ble excitement  is  demanded  by  human  nature,  and  if 
lacking  in  purer  forms,  will  be  taken  in  grosser. 

The  only  questions  are  these:  Are  our  controlling 
passions  those  which  ought  to  be  the  masters ;  and  do 
they  keep  the  true  proportion  and  order  as  to  the  rest? 
There  is  a  place  for  them  all.  It  is  only  the  encroach- 
ment of  one  upon  another  which  is  an  evil.  If  with  us 
the  little  has  usurped  the  place  of  the  great,  if  amuse- 
ments are  our  business,  they  are  no  longer  amusements, 
—  the  word  means  relief.  If  we  are  beings  whose  work 
is  to  trifle,  whose  aims  are  frivolities,  our  rank  is  the 
rank  of  motes  floating  in  the  sun.  But  no,  that  were  to 
slander  the  motes,  for  their  play  has  business  in  it.  The 
rule  then  is,  so  much  play  as  does  not  weaken,  but 
invigorates  the  zest  and  ability  for  duty. 


WORLDLINESS.  3  2 1 

Then,  as  to  the  quality  of  our  amusements.  They  are 
worldly  if  they  are  of  that  sort  which  discountenances 
better  things.  If  amusements  are  such,  and  so  exciting 
as  to  make  insipid  quiet  studies,  sober  duties,  gentle 
affections ;  if  their  beauty  is  of  that  sort  which  makes 
the  true  beauty  of  life  homely ;  if  your  Tyrian  purples 
make  the  stuff  of  duty  look  gray  and  homespun,  then  be 
sure  they  are  worldly  and  pernicious.  I  will  give  then 
two  rules :  Not  too  much ;  and  not  of  that  sort  which 
chills  our  better  tastes. 

I  am  not  affected  by  the  usual  prejudices  on  this 
subject.  The  prejudices  of  even  good  men  have  swept 
into  indiscriminate  condemnation,  for  example,  all  danc- 
ing, all  games,  all  public  shows.  How  foolish  this  is,  I 
hardly  need  to  say,  and  indeed  disastrous.  "Where 
virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous."  There  is  a  dancinsf, 
to  be  sure,  there  are  games,  public  shows,  most  worthy 
of  condemnation.  Paris,  London,  New  York,  some- 
times pour  their  worst  morals  on  the  stage,  and 
husbands,  fathers,  wives,  daughters,  sit  with  open  face 
assisting  at  these  shameless  exhibitions. 

As  to  the  theatre,  permit  me  to  say  a  few  words. 
The  Christian  Church  is  now  and  always  with  much 
unanimity  against  it,  and  the  world  (so  called)  is  with 
entire  unanimity  for  it.  Very  rarely  has  it  occurred  to 
them  that  they  both  may  be  wrong.  If  there  is  in  it  a 
possibility  of  much  innocent  and  needed  pleasure  for 
the  human  race,  nay,  of  direct  and  elevating  benefit, 
then  it  is  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  recognize  what  it 

21 


322  WORLDLINESS. 

might  be,  and  to  throw  the  whole  weight  of  its  power 
against  the  evils  only.  It  is  so  great  an  institution  in 
our  life,  one  which  in  some  shape  must  stand  forever, 
or  as  long  as  man  stands,  that  one  would  think  all  men 
of  the  Church  or  of  the  world  would  agree  to  make  it 
such  as  in  some  good  degree  would  suit  them  both, — 
the  Church  liberalizing  her  views  and  graciously  conde- 
scending, the  world  purifying  and  elevating  its  taste. 
It  should  be  under  the  most  watchful  care  of  the  best 
Christian  conscience  (I  mean  a  conscience  wise  through 
liberality),  and  at  the  same  time  under  a  taste  large 
enough  to  admit  all  human  interests,  but  keeping  far  off 
from  the  shadow  of  ill.  All  advocates  of  the  drama 
should  know  that  while  it  is  a  fascinating  figure,  yet  it 
stoops  so  easily  to  low  tastes  in  the  play,  and  to  low 
lives  in  the  actors,  that  to  keep  it  honorable,  and  a 
minister  of  sweet  and  noble  influences,  it  should  be 
watched  with  chaste  and  stern  eyes.  Any  attempt  to 
regenerate  this  powerful  muse  should  have  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  Church,  —  which,  how^ever,  cannot  tolerate 
it  as  it  stands ;  its  sympathy  must  be  reserved  for  honest 
effort  to  make  it  as  it  ought  to  be.  So  of  all  amuse- 
ments. There  is  nothing  in  them  of  necessity  unclean ; 
but  as  the  heart  needs  the  regeneration  of  Christ,  so  do 
all  the  ways  and  institutions  of  man. 

In  all  amusements  and  in  all  our  life,  let  not  a  mad 
luxury  react  to  a  mad  asceticism ;  let  us  not  impose 
the  rule  for  saints  or  holy  men  —  and  a  very  question- 
able rule  even  for  them  —  upon  the  young,  calling  that 


WORLDLINESS.  ■  323 

sin  which  is  no  sin,  blackening  a  world  already  dark 
enough,  and  forcing  the  live  human  being  to  become  a 
mummy.  Worse  still,  if  a  man  finds  he  cannot  live  the 
dry  life  of  a  mummy,  the  effect  is  to  drive  him  either 
into  a  hypocritical  sensualism  or  into  an  open  opposi- 
tion to  religion  and  to  his  own  conscience,  while  Christ 
and  his  pure  religion  must  bear  the  reproach  of  it  all. 
**  Use  this  world  as  not  abusing  it."  The  mouth  is 
made  for  laughter,  as  well  as  for  speech ;  everything  for 
use,  but  nothing  for  abuse.  This  is  reason ;  this  is 
religion. 

I  do  not  call  worldly,  a  regulated  desire  for  advance- 
ment by  gain  of  money,  rank,  or  reputation.  These 
things  are  natural,  and  no  natural  instinct  is  created  to 
be  extirpated,  and  these  instincts  are  the  basis  of  the 
order  and  progress  of  the  world.  When,  however,  a 
man  forfeits  the  whole  of  his  widely  gifted  soul  to  one 
object,  and  his  eagerness  hardens  him  into  steel ;  when 
his  heart  does  not  soften  and  sweeten  as  his  fortunes 
grow;  when  he  does  not  turn  with  increasing  gratitude 
and  humility  to  God,  with  increasing  brotherliness 
and  generosity  to  men,  sorry  for  their  failures,  prompt 
to  meet  their  distresses,  then  be  sure  the  man  is 
worldly. 

There  is  a  worldliness,  indeed,  much  deeper  than 
mere  enjoyment  of  the  world,  and  of  this  few  tongues 
ever  speak.  I  call  pre-eminently  worldly  the  men  and 
women  who  for  the  sake  of  the  world's  good  opinion,  or 
of  rank  in   society,   sacrifice   their    better    selves,   their 


324  IVORLDLINESS. 

friends,  the  truth.  Aspirations  for  good  society  we 
must  all  approve  (for  our  society  is  one  of  the  highest 
facts  about  us)  ;  but  by  good  society  I  mean  people 
with  refinements  and  thoughts,  above  all,  with  hearts 
and  with  an  inward  nobleness,  for  that  only  is  good 
society ;  and  to  sacrifice  something  to  make  them  friends 
were  wise  indeed. 

But  the  sacrifices  I  speak  of  are  made  to  reach  a  very 
different  society.  I  will  not  describe  it;  but  whatever 
it  is,  at  the  best  it  is  but  a  conventional  thing.  Yet  to 
reach  it,  or  to  live  in  it,  many  sacrifice  themselves,  their 
minds,  deserting  all  true  culture;  sacrifice  their  con- 
sciences (for  to  them  the  rule  of  fashion  is  essentially 
the  law  of  God)  ;  sacrifice  their  hearts,  the  domestic 
affections  become  selfish,  greedy,  striving  (I  have  seen 
them  poising  like  hawks  in  the  upper  air,  looking  over 
land  and  sea  for  their  objects)  ;  become  envious,  malig- 
nant, worshipping  what  is  over  their  heads,  despising 
what  they  think  under  their  feet,  sacrificing  not  merely 
their  personal  worth,  but  their  peace ;  for  if  we  except 
some  flashy  excitements,  nothing  can  be  more  unsatis- 
factory than  their  lives. 

This  I  call  worldly ;  and  I  call  it  worldly  also  when 
for  the  sake  of  the  world  people  sacrifice  their  convic- 
tions. Zadok  was  the  founder  of  the  great  sect  of  the 
Pharisees,  and  he  left  on  record  this  memorable  piece 
of  advice,  "  Separate  not  yourselves  from  the  majority," 
which  is  the  fundamental  maxim  of  human  nature  in 
everything  worldly.     If  the  whole  of  our  best  society 


•     WORLDLINESS.  325 

were  turned  Buddhists,  how  long  would  the  worldly 
woman  or  man  remain  Christian?  The  usual  question 
is,  What  will  he  or  she  do?  Are  the  best  people  on 
that  side?  And  so  they  snap  the  most  sacred  obligations. 
*'  They  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  moon." 

There  are  several  sorts  of  worldlings ;   but  to  sacrifice 
friends  and  convictions  on  a  cold  and  heathen  calcula- 
tion   is    so    extreme,   so   hateful   to   God,  that  I   could 
almost  wish   you   would   forget  all   the   rest  and  think 
only  of  this  one.     There  is  a  so-called  worldling  of  the 
senses,  the  man  who  is  his  own  worst  enemy,  but  he 
may   be    kind    and    true    at   the    bottom   of  his   heart. 
There  is  the  worldling  of  vanity,  the  creature  of  a  silly 
imagination,  a  painted  little  butterfly,  —  no  one  can  be 
very    harsh    with    that.     But   worse    than    these   is   the 
heartless  worldling,  the  man   (still  more  the  woman,  if 
it  be  possible)    whose  soul  has   been  turned   into   the 
cold  steel  of  selfishness;    the  poised,  calculating,  sys- 
tematic worldling,  who  shows  a  thousand  faces  and  all 
frightful,  who  shines  in  smiles  and  is  all  iron  below,  who, 
if  fashionable  interest  beck  to  him,  will  set  his  iron  heel 
on  the  tenderest  heart  or  the  most  sacred  truth,  if  it  is 
safe  to  do  so,  and  at  any  rate  will   stand  aside  to  let 
injury  be   done;   the   worldling  who   is   perfect   in   the 
let-alone    principle,   perfect    in    the   cold   soul   of  Cain, 
saying,  *' Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?" 

I  sometimes  wish  there  would  appear  new  apostles 
on  the  earth  to  preach  common  honor,  to  preach  kind 
hearts,  to  preach  manliness  to  men  and  womanliness  to 


326  WORLDLINESS. 

women.  For,  though  none  of  us,  I  think,  can  be  like 
the  picture  I  have  drawn,  yet  we  are  all  of  us  in  some 
degree  tainted.  It  is  impossible  to  stand  so  near  the 
great  ocean  of  worldliness  and  not  be  sprinkled  by  its 
spray. 

Of  the  higher  and  universal  form  of  worldliness  I 
have  not  spoken  at  all.  I  mean  that  universal  exag- 
geration of  the  world  that  now  is,  —  an  exaggeration 
which  seems  to  belong  to  us  as  men ;  the  forgetfulness, 
in  the  present  moment  and  place,  of  the  invisible,  the 
beyond,  the  hereafter.  We  are  all  of  us  shut  up  as  in 
a  box,  **  worshipping  and"  serving  the  creature,"  and 
seeing  nothing  outside.  We  are  eager  and  immersed 
in  the  thing  of  a  moment,  anxious,  fretted.  Why  so 
intense?  Be  quiet  "The  Lord  is  at  hand."  In  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  this  great  scene 
must  be  stripped,  and  we  must  stand  before  the  face  of 
the  Judge,  who  judges  ''  the  deeds  done  in  the  body." 

Ah,  gracious  God  !  make  us  a  little  wiser ;  make  us 
to  "  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present 
world ;  looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious 
appearing  of  the  great  God,  and  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ."     Amen. 


University  Press:  John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


Date  Due 

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